The Darkness Comes With You
by scottie994
Summary: Twenty-three and working as an assistant at a record label, Karin feels as though her life has hit a dead end, catching her unfulfilled and unhappy. A turn of events lands her in close quarters to former musician Hitsugaya Toushiro, and thus on the path to a promotion. But it's unclear whether he'll be her salvation, or her final ruin. HitsuKarin, AU
1. shake your head, it's empty

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. Story titled after lyrics from Blackout by Garbage._**

 ** _Trigger warning for drug use, suicide mention, etc., in case that makes any of you reading this uncomfortable._**

* * *

It was quiet and dark as she sat on her window sill, slumped back against the wall with her legs curled up, feet crossed. A large mug of coffee sat in her lap, her thumb trailing along the rim as she cast her gaze to the dawn ridden streets below. Her apartment was on the sixth floor of the building, but Karin could still make out the tired faces of people trekking along in the freshly fallen snow, either coming home or going out, and her eyes lidded in exhaustion when she thought of how she'd be joining the latter in a matter of minutes.

She checked her phone then, clicking the screen on briefly for the time before she drew her head back against the wall, savouring the last two minutes she had to spare until she finally dragged herself from the window and into her bedroom, pulling a pair of black skinny jeans on under the oversized burgundy sweater she'd been essentially burrowed in all weekend.

She laced her boots up lazily, the chestnut leather buffing out slightly to accommodate the bulk of her wool socks over her jeans, and she made a short round of her small flat, double checking that everything was off and secure while she buttoned up her coat, feeling almost too snug as her sweater bunched up within it.

Grabbing her bookbag, scarf, phone, and keys, Karin downed the remains of her coffee in three large gulps, setting the mug back down on the counter with a clumsy thwack and heading promptly out the door to the hallway, locking it swiftly before walking hurriedly towards the elevators.

* * *

The city of Shinjuku was busy, always, no matter what time of day. She always took the 6:45 train downtown due to that fact, allowing herself plenty of extra time to trek around and run all her annoying and unnecessary errands before work.

She went to the general store in the plaza first, gathering a bundle of specially imported magazines under one arm while she swiped her company card with a tired yawn, smiling sleepily at the clerk before she left. The cold winter air bit at her face as she made her way down the street, then down another, entering the too familiar gluten-free bakery to find her daily order already packed up and ready for payment, and a grimace twisted her face. Was this really how boring her life had become? She shoved the package of muffins and bagels into her tote bag carelessly, not caring for a second if it crumpled the magazines.

Finally, she stopped into the stuffy coffee shop that had squished itself into the corner of the street, a various seven restaurants and boutiques separating it from her work building. She really hated this coffee shop, how the same group of people always seemed to be occupying the same tables, an air of snobby elitism about them as they sat with their complicated sounding lattes and their laptops, making her feel uncomfortable from the moment she walked through the door.

They glare at her without even looking away from their screens, and she scrunched her face in disdain. She rambled off her order to the barista without pause, drumming her fingers on the counter impatiently as she waited and emerging from the shop shortly after with a full tray of large coffees and cappuccinos, struggling with all her might to keep them still and balanced as she made her way down the icy sidewalk. And all because the over-expensive coffee machine at the office apparently wasn't good enough.

 _Bloody bastards,_ she thought to herself vindictively, glaring at the the large 'Blue Lightning Records' sign plastered on the outside of the building for good measure before she entered. Taking the elevator to the fourth floor, she felt nearly every muscle in her body cramp in place, barely allowing her to move properly and leaving her pained as she made her way across the dark hardwood floor of her department toward the far corner office, attempting as best she could to keep the coffee's sloshing to a minimum.

She cleared her throat as she crossed the threshold, her eyes trained on the tall faux-redhead standing at the window, seemingly lost in thought. "Victoria?"

" _Finally._ " Whipping around on her heel, Victoria shot her a quick glare, hazel eyes piercing her like a spear. Had she done something already? A record. "What _took_ you so long? I nearly starved to death."

Karin rolled her eyes, relief ripping through her body as she set the tray of coffees down on the desk and let the heavy bag on her arm thunk down on the nearest chair. "I arrive the same time every morning, Victoria," she responded dryly, doling out a designated two of the four coffee cups separately on the desk. "And, y'know, if you're _that_ hungry you could always just go and get your own breakfast."

"Well, yes, but then what would I need _you_ for?" Karin barely contained her glower while the woman smiled her thin red stained smile, the pride of having power over someone practically coming off in waves. Victoria was her direct superior and boss, as well as the assistant of the chief executive officer, and had therefore developed a superiority complex. "Now," the redhead began, drawing a hand out toward the heavy tote bag on the opposing chair with a grasp of her fingers, a silent command for her magazines and a muffin, of which Karin complied with no lack of reluctance. "Take the other coffees down to Jasmine and put everything else in the staff room. I'll come check on you later."

Exhaling densely, Karin grabbed her bag and the tray of coffees yet again, heading down to yet another first grade assistant who couldn't get her own shit for herself and to the staff room pantry that was so chock-full of food that she constantly questioned why she had to walk several blocks out of her way every morning for some measly bagels and bran muffins, and by the time she got seated at her own desk she was so tired she wondered if it were possible to die of such pathetic work ethic.

She leaned back in her chair slowly, closing her eyes and allowing herself to breathe for a moment before launching herself into work. But before she could even finish typing her login to her computer she felt a lanky figure sidle up beside her, and she cursed under her breath.

"Hiya, babe."

Karin sighed for what had to have been the hundredth time that morning. "Is there ever going to be a day where I ask you not to call me 'babe' and you actually listen?"

"Doubtful."

Turning her chair slightly, Karin met the coy brown eyes of one Hirako Shinji. He was grinning toothily as always, beaming down at her from beneath a crop of slanted bangs. She scowled in return.

"What do you want, Shinji? I'm busy."

"So hostile… Did Vicky kick a hole in your pride again?"

Her features darkened. Shinji was an A&R Director, having achieved nearly every career goal she aspired to, and she somewhat despised him for it. Especially when he presumed to tease her about her lack of achievement.

"Oh, don't give me that look. I come bearing good news, I promise." She merely raised her brow, and he leaned in conspicuously, scanning their surroundings in a secretive manner. "Hitsugaya Toushiro has returned to music."

Her expression didn't even stir, and he frowned at her. "Maybe you didn't hear me correctly, so I'll repeat myself. _The_ Hitsugaya Toushiro was literally heard playing new music. My friend lives right next to him, he swears on his life."

"And I should care, why?"

"Good god, Karin. Are you really so far gone into your despair and turmoil that you can't see what this means?"

She gritted her teeth. "I'm not in turmoil, asshat. I just don't see what the big deal is of some washed up celebrity plucking some strings."

Shinji looked utterly disappointed in her. "He wasn't just some celebrity, Kurosaki, he was a _fucking. Prodigy._ He could be planning a comeback!"

Karin groaned, pressing her forehead into her palm and praying for the end of this conversation. It was far too early.

"The guy went completely off the grid over _two_ _years_ ago. He essentially quit music. There's no point in getting all worked up over nothing," she rebutted offhandedly.

"Oh, c'mon, Karin. It's _Hitsugaya._ I mean, weren't you a fan of him?"

Karin pretended to bite her nails. "Somewhat," she mumbled.

To be honest she'd never really been that into _him_ in particular, merely regarding him as the lead singer of that band she'd enjoyed hearing on the radio from time to time, undeniably attractive and talented yet lacking heavily in the personality department. It came as no real shock to her when he turned inexplicably into a raging drug-addicted alcoholic, falling into the abyss of millions before him, destined to be an eventual topic for celebrity documentaries.

A horrible cliche, simply put, was Hitsugaya in a nutshell. And that wasn't exactly the type of person she liked to spend her limited capacity of hope and excitement on.

"Well, whatever," Shinji scoffed, clearly put off by his friend's utter lack of enthusiasm. "Perhaps your void of admiration will prove valuable. You see, I want your help."

"Get your own assistant, Shinji," Karin said dismissively, turning her chair back to face her desk, fingers tapping on the keyboard to complete her login.

"I have one. Two, actually, but they don't have quite the same… _pizzazz_ as you do."

She gave him a look. "'Pizzazz'?"

"Yeah… Y'know, like, um, _full of drive_ , and uh, … _energy_ …?" His face scrunched as the words fell from his lips, as if regretting them. They both knew she'd lost both those things a terrible year and a half ago. "Okay, fine, let's admit that you're as dull as an unsharpened pencil and should probably be going to therapy every day–'

"Okay, let's not admit that much."

"– _But_ , I know for a fact that you can do this, if you really try. I caught a glimpse of your potential before this place drained it out of you, it's in there somewhere. All you have to do is scout him out, convince him to sign with us."

She ran a hand through her hair, uncertainty mauling her features. "I dunno, Shinji."

"If it goes well, I'll bring you into my department. Promotion and all."

His words were slow to recognition, running haphazardly in her mind as she just stared, unsure if she heard him right. Her heartbeat quickened audibly.

"I'll just assume your shock means yes, you'll do it." Shinji decided airily, excusing himself and walking off in the direction of the exit, his own office being on an entirely different floor. "Good luck~"

* * *

She couldn't even focus on work that day, not since Shinji and his all kinds of sudden proposal, her mind frantic and unorganized with thought. She sat at her desk most of the day, files and papers littered around her and making it look as though she was working, when in reality she was googling Hitsugaya Toushiro.

She figured under the new circumstances, she ought to inform herself.

She found herself scrolling through bios and personal interviews at first, eyes skimming over the fan-written words and interviewer questions, all highlighting on his high intellect, how he was a musical prodigy, and skimpy details of where and how he grew up. Reading through the interviews, the way he answered the questions so short and impersonally, she came to the conclusion that he was a very private person. How short and undetailed his biographies were on the multiple sites she clicked through only enforced the fact.

By the end of the day, she'd attended a mere two short meetings where she bit her nails excessively with boredom and received many glares from Victoria, completed only about half the work she normally did every other day, and had learned absolutely nothing more about Hitsugaya Toushiro than she'd already known.

He and his friends began a band in high school, named it BLEACH'D, became famous and toured all around the world ten times over, then after four years he became an addict and they split up, the end. Even his bandmates bios and links gave her nothing to go on. Fucking ghosts, these people were.

The clock on her phone read 4:45, and with her things all packed up and ready to go, Karin slumped back in her chair, closing her eyes tiredly. Of course, she could head home right then, like everyone else in the building was currently doing, but she knew for a fact that the minute she tried to even stand up with the notion of leaving, Victoria would pop out of nowhere with a sudden request for her, something that could've been done anytime during the day but out of some sadistic sense only came to mind at the very last minute, and Karin valued her shitty income enough to not ever say no to the woman.

"Kurosaki~"

Right on cue. Karin opened her eyes then, straightening up in her chair in acknowledgement. But of course Victoria's eyes were glued to her phone, manicured nails tapping away on the screen even as she continued to speak.

"I need you to go pick up my order of sake," she said dryly. "It's perfectly aged and very crucial for my dinner party tonight."

"Clearly," Karin quipped, face hardening in disdain. "I mean you only waited 'til the very last minute to tell me, so it must be _super_ important."

Looking away from her phone, Victoria scowled. "Just get it, okay? I'm stuck here for another hour and won't have time to go before they close. It's waiting at that liquor store a few blocks over, you know the one."

But of course. Karin had done so many booze runs for this woman over the last year and a half she could barely count them all. Standing up, she took the silver company card that had been held out for her and grabbed her coat and bookbag, giving Victoria a half-hearted nod as she headed for the door.

"I'll be back in a bit…"

* * *

The city lights were becoming bright and vivid against the darkening sky, and she squinted at them, her eyes burning from the dryness in the air. She struggled not to slip on the icy sidewalks, nearly suffocating within the bustling crowd of people walking every which way and nearly making her slip every two minutes. She really hated winter.

Rounding the corner onto her destinated street almost twenty minutes later, Karin fished her abruptly ringing phone out of her pocket, her face scrunching momentarily as she tried to keep her balance with the divided use of her arms, and she prayed the caller was someone pleasant.

"Hello?" she started probably too curtly, feeling winded and out of breath.

" _Karin-chan!"_ It was Yuzu, and the dark-haired girl sighed in both relief and delight at the sound of her sister's voice. " _Finally! I've been trying to reach you all day."_

"Oh, sorry. I forget to check my phone while I'm at work."

" _Well, I guess I can't be mad at you for that. How are you?"_

"Same as always," she answered dully, immediately regretting it as her sister sighed into the speaker. Karin forced a smile on reflex, forgetting for a moment that Yuzu couldn't actually see her. "And you?"

" _I'm great. Though work is stressing me out this week. Do you know how hard it is to try and keep a restaurant running while doing renovations? I hate it."_

Karin snickered into her scarf, shaking her head slightly as she eyed the bright red liquor store sign just yards ahead. "I told you you should've just closed down for a couple weeks, would've gotten done a lot quicker."

" _Hush, you. Anyways, I can't talk long, but I wanted to make sure we were still on for shopping tomorrow?"_

"Of course." The very thought of having to actually leave her apartment on a weekend made her feel sluggish, but she'd be damned if she went yet another day without seeing her sister. It had been ages.

" _Great! I'm really eager to go to my favourite shops from when I lived there. I need some new–'_

Her sister's words were distant and muffled as Karin's attention was steered to the sound of her company issued pager, of which only rang when Victoria needed something. She literally only owned the thing because of the woman and her vast and unending needs.

"Shit, sorry Yu, Bitchtoria is paging me… hold on." Settling her phone in a nook between her head and shoulder, Karin began rummaging through her bag for her not well placed pager, not having the sense to stop walking as she did so.

It was only inevitable that she would run into someone, specifically someone exiting the store she was meant to enter, the collision harsh and horrendously accelerated by the ice covered cement under their feet.

"–oof!" Karin sputtered, her eyes going wide and confused as she tripped over her own feet, the impact of collision sending both her and the other person falling ass-down on the sidewalk. "Ow…"

Her face scrunched in discomfort and she placed a hand on her backside reflexively, caught up in the abrupt pain of it all for more than a few breaths before she even took notice of the stranger sitting opposite her, muttering curses under his breath in frustration as he attempted to gather his bearings.

Once again, her eyes grew to owl-like proportions. "Shit!" Grabbing her miraculously unmarred phone as she scrambled to her feet, Karin made to aid the fumbling man. "I'm _so_ sorry. I wasn't even looking."

"I'm aware," he said gruffly, distancing himself from her as he staggered to his feet. He then appeared for a moment to be inspecting the quart-sized bottle of liquor in his grasp, briefly sliding it out of a slim paper bag. "Well, at least my rum hasn't suffered."

"Your _rum?"_ Karin scoffed, becoming rapidly defensive. "What about _me?!_ I could've gotten hurt or even _concussed_ because of you!"

"You didn't, though," he pointed out, completely unabashed. "And even if you had, it wouldn't have been my fault."

She shot him a bewildered look, her hand tightening around her phone angrily. It was enough to drive her mad, his absolute lack of courtesy stirring up a rant within her. And she would've went with it, too, if it weren't for her sudden acknowledgement of the eyes staring blankly into hers, of which were a brilliant and distinctive shade of blue.

"Wait a second…" There was no mistaking it, not the face marring frown nor the stark white hair that stuck out from beneath his hat and hood, and she felt her stomach lurch in shock. "It's _you."_ He raised a brow. "Hitsugaya Toushiro!"

His eyes bulged in shock, as though his master disguise had left him naked and susceptible to the public eye, but quickly narrowed, his features darkening. "You drink too much," he accused, hastily turning from her and walking away.

"Wait!" She called after him, only serving to make him pick up his pace. She said a hurried goodbye into her phone to her very confused sounding sister, who had stayed on the line throughout the whole ordeal, and promptly followed the thin black blob that was Hitsugaya in a trenchcoat from behind, her heart pounding excitedly.

"Please leave me alone," Hitsugaya groaned once she caught up to him, forcing a wayward gaze as he attempted to ignore her presence.

"But I have to talk to you," she said breathlessly, winded by desperation and sharply brisk air.

"Oh, do you?" His tone was far from kind. "You some sort of journalist of something?"

"Uh, no, not a journalist. I work as an assistant at Blue Lightning Records, actually."

Hitsugaya scoffed, sticking a cigarette between his lips. "A record label goffer, then. Much better." The wind refused to let his cigarette light, and he glared at it before shoving it back in his pocket, looking betrayed. "I'm not a musician, anymore, incase you're unaware," he spat, directing his glare to her. "I have no business with you or your label, so go bother someone else."

"But you were playing new music," Karin blurted out, skipping ahead of him so he was forced to continue walking with her. She was being horribly unprofessional, she knew, but was frankly too desperate to care.

He peered at her suspiciously. "Have you been stalking me?"

"What? No." As-fucking-if. "My co-worker is friends with your neighbour. _He's_ the one who heard you."

Hitsugaya sighed dejectedly. "Great, now I have to move…" he muttered, his perpetual frown ever so intact as he uncapped his rum. "Fine, so I was playing around. Not like it means anything."

She watched him take a long swig of rum, and her face fell. "You mean, you're not writing again, trying to make a comeback?"

He snorted dispassionately, his features hard and patronizing as he looked at her. "No. And even if I was, I can assure you the last thing I'd do is sell my soul to yet another record label and let the remains of my livelihood get sealed into some contract. It was hard enough escaping that shit the first time."

"But–'

"I apologize for the disappointment, but as it stands I don't have anything left to give."

He brushed past her then, towering over her small and still frame, and she barely heard his voice as he turned down the next street. "See you around…"

A jumble of words had caught in her throat, sticking uncomfortably and leaving her mouth dry. She stood there on the street corner for a long and stunned moment, her gaze straying unconsciously to the back of Hitsugaya's retreating form, his slim figure getting further and further away and gradually blending in with the crowds.

A distinct feeling of gloom stirred in her chest, familiar as it weighed her down. She retraced her steps back down the street, actively ignored the string of beeps sounding from her phone, no doubt Victoria texting her and asking where the hell she was. It was with nothing but reluctance and dejection that she made her way back to the liquor store to fulfill her task and retreated to her office again, the reality of what her life was hanging over her like a heavy dark cloud as she let herself become amassed in the busy sea of faceless people.

Maybe on the other side he felt the same way.

...


	2. come apart at the seams

...

Walking through the busy streets of downtown Shinjuku, Karin stared blankly into the windows of ever constant restaurants and tinted corporate towers, watching her reflection weave through the slew of pedestrians. She held an excruciatingly hot cup of coffee in her hands, sipping the much needed caffeine gingerly while she listened to her sister's excited ramblings, topics ranging from anything to everything. Yuzu had rivalled her greatly in the spending department that afternoon, having collected over half a dozen colourful shopping bags throughout their travels in the overpopulated department stores and the little shops they passed on the street, whilst Karin merely picked up a new record, clearance underwear, and a bottle of moisturizer.

Their contrasting levels of success and financial stability were palpable, to say the least.

"So, how's work going with you?" Yuzu asked sweetly, having just spoken about the renovations going on at her restaurant. She was the proud owner of a growingly prestigious bistro in the neighbouring ward since she'd won first place in a culinary competition two years prior and won the means to build and run her own establishment, which she'd opened in Ikebukuro. Coupling that with their brother's reputable doctor status left Karin the least accomplished of the Kurosaki children.

"Ehh…" Karin tilted her head to the side, considering her answer. If she were to be completely honest she'd have to admit that her job had become the total bane of her existence and made her so exhausted of herself and life in general that she barely had the motivation or energy to do anything remotely enjoyable, like for example hang out with her siblings on a regular basis. But then, she'd first have to admit it to herself. "It's okay. Y'know, it's work."

"Don't be so modest, Karin!" Yuzu chuckled, bright-eyed and ignorant. "You work at a _record label_ , that's gotta be exciting, right? I bet you meet loads of cool musicians all the time."

"My department doesn't really deal with the artists. Not like, face to face, anyway."

Yuzu frowned. "Oh…"

Karin's stomach churned, a restless lump drying up her throat. She stammered. "Anyway, um, didn't you mention that you met someone? Tell me about him."

"Oh, yeah!" Yuzu chirped, lighting up immediately. The dark-haired twin smiled in relief of the easy topic change. "He's the new line cook at the restaurant. I know I probably shouldn't be crushing on my employees, but he's so friendly and interesting… and he plays guitar!"

"Ooh, a musician _and_ a cook. What a dreamboat." Yuzu's cheeks flushed bright pink, and Karin could barely stifle a laugh at her expense. She didn't even try. "What's his name? I don't suppose I know him."

"Well, you may know _of_ him. His name's Hisagi Shuuhei."

It took less than a second for the name to register in Karin's mind, and by regard make her spit hot coffee everywhere. "What?!"

Her sister cocked her head to side, her brow wrinkled curiously. "Um, Karin?"

"Hisagi Shuuhei? Like the guitarist with the problematic face tattoo from the band _BLEACH'D_ Hisagi Shuuhei, is your new _line cook_?"

"Yep! It's kinda weird, I know. I mean, you'd think a guy having a the number _sixty-nine_ tattooed on his cheek would turn me off, but then his personality is just so catching. And he can chop and prepare food like no one I've ever seen. He's like a wizard."

Oh the strange things that pulled her sister's heart-strings, Yuzu had gone dreamy eyed.

"You know what they say about guitarists and their hands…" Karin commented dully, her mind reeling from this recent development. Her eyes sparkled with hope as she looked to her sister again. "Do you know if he still talks to the rest of the band?"

The honey blonde gazed upwardly for a moment, her lip jutting thoughtfully. "Hmm, I'm not sure if he's still in touch with _all_ of them, but the drummer guy… Uh, what's his name, Abarai?" Karin merely nodded, eyes bulging. "Yeah, him. He comes into the restaurant sometimes, since Shuuhei started. I think he's a bartender or something."

"Huh…" How low-key of him. It seemed as though the only member that stayed in the spotlight was Kuchiki Rukia, who had quickly moved on from a bass playing back-up vocalist to an international model. "Interesting."

Yuzu peered at her suspiciously. "What are you on about? I know that face."

"Think you can find out for me?" Karin questioned vaguely, disregarding her sister's words. "If he's in touch with the others, I mean."

"I suppose… Why?"

"A somewhat friend of mine at work offered me a spot with him in A&R if I can get Hitsugaya Toushiro to sign on with the label, since apparently he'd been heard playing new music. _However,_ I have no way of getting in touch with the guy, save for when I ran into him last night and literally knocked him on his ass."

"Is that what all that ruckus was on the phone?"

Karin nodded dejectedly. "He no less than ran away from me, spewing some shit about having 'nothing left to give'."

"Well, that's depressing."

"Yeah, tell me about it," Karin muttered, taking a sip of her coffee. It had gotten exceedingly cold, and she grimaced.

"It's worth a try though, right?" Yuzu said encouragingly, nudging her twin's arm with her elbow. "I'll ask Shuuhei tomorrow, he's on lunch shift."

"Thanks." Tossing her coffee cup in a nearby waste bin, Karin graced her sister with a thankful grin and huddled into her scarf, stuffing her hands in her coat pockets. She'd admit she was grasping at straws, but that didn't keep her from feeling hopeful, feeling lighter and aspirational and almost brimming with ambition like she used to.

No, there was definitely no room to overlook the chances.

"Oh, and on the subject of your foreseeable relationship with tattoo face," Karin prodded, her lips twisting up a teasing smirk. "When it comes time to introduce him to dad and Ichigo, please let me be there."

* * *

After seeing Yuzu to the train station and promising that they'd get together again soon, Karin's weekend reverted almost seamlessly back to its usual dullness. It was a short walk home from her own train stop, and she did it lazily, relishing in the peace of the night and the low murmur of music from her headphones.

Her apartment building was right around the corner from a slew of bars, their bright lights and loud, welcoming rhythms garnering a considering glance from her as she crossed the street. A group of girls caught her eye, their laughter resonating like a continental drift in her chest, and she found herself lingering on the sidewalk for just a breath.

Once inside, she readily changed from her blouse and jeans to a t-shirt and sweatpants, wasting no time crawling into bed and resigning herself to a night of watching Korean dramas and consuming far too much coca-cola and oreos than could possibly be healthy. She'd felt revitalized for a while, being out and about with her sister, an increasingly rare occurrence since Yuzu had left their old shared apartment and moved to the next ward over, launching the two of them, for the first time in their lives, into lone living. And as she laid now, huddled up in bed with her junk food and her TV remote, Karin couldn't shake the thoughts of the past, of how life was before, how much _better_ life was before, when they were still in university and everything was simpler, funner. On track. When they went out to bars with their friends and sang karaoke and had regular family dinners with their dad and Ichigo, living life like they always did and then some.

She'd never expected it to all end so suddenly, for everything to shift so drastically and become so skewed. Everyone goes their separate ways, that's inevitable, and she'd always known that much, but she'd never imagined that _her_ path would be one of working a job she hates and being perpetually glued to her mattress.

If she didn't sleep such thoughts and reflections away, she'd surely go insane.

* * *

" _Apparently none of them have spoken to Hitsugaya in two years."_

She was still in bed when Yuzu called the following night, a blank and drowsy expression etched into her unkempt post-nap features as she laid on her side, her phone fixed properly on her cheek.

" _I guess Kuchiki-san checks in on Abarai-san and Shuuhei when she's in the area,"_ Yuzu continued, her voice decidedly toneless. " _But, with the exception of Shuuhei, they pretty much hate Hitsugaya's guts."_

 _Great,_ Karin internally groaned, rubbing her eyes irritably.

" _I guess some stuff went down the last going off. He didn't really tell me much of what happened, but Shuuhei says he doesn't see Kuchiki-san or Abarai-san forgiving any of it anytime soon, much less talking to him at all."_

Karin made a near-inaudible sound, eyes fixed on the small ball of fuzz clinging to her white cotton sheet.

" _Karin? Are you still there?"_

She exhaled densely. "Yeah."

" _You okay?"_

"Mhm." She squeezed her eyes shut, hard, biting down on her bottom lip. The quiet stillness of her apartment was daunting. "Thanks for your help, Yu."

" _It's no problem…"_ There was a palpable hesitation on the other end. Worry. It made her sick. " _But, um, are you sure you're alright?"_

"Yeah, totally. The guy seems like too much of a pain to be worth the effort, anyway." She lied through her teeth. He was a pain, yes, a complete and utter asshole as far as she could tell, but any amount of assholiness was worth this promotion. "I'm just hungry, to be honest. And I gotta do laundry and dishes and all that, so…"

" _Right, I have to go anyway. I'm taking the staff out for drinks and karaoke tonight."_

A sadness ghosted her smile. "Okay, well have fun."

" _I will!"_ Yuzu chirped, her grin practically audible through the phone. " _We'll talk later, okay?"_

"Yep."

" _Okay~ Love you, bye!"_

Karin let her phone slide off her cheek as the line disconnected, her throat dry and aching. She wasn't much of a crier, always opting for silent disposition and the ever so often stray tear, but she felt herself at a breaking point, an emptiness roaring in the pit of her stomach from more than just hunger, and she didn't have the spare energy to swallow it down this time.

* * *

It had been eleven days since her run in with Hitsugaya, _eight_ since her sister had called with depressingly unhelpful information, and ever since Karin had been feeling the woes of failure. _Brimming_ with it, even. The bit of confidence she'd restored in herself, the kindred ambition she'd felt in the wake of a promotional opportunity, all of it was fading, breaking off piece by piece.

She entertained the thought of just forgetting about Hitsugaya all together, hugging a stack of folders to her chest as she made her way back from a meeting. She lived in Tokyo after all, so surely there had to be some promising musicians roaming around somewhere, hopeful and unsigned. Surely she'd be able to find at least one, if she were to resurrect even a semblance of the self-assured and driven person she used to be and did a little bar hopping, checked out some of the popular scenes, the _unpopular_ scenes.

It was doable.

Shifting the weight of her folders to one arm, Karin pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and began scrolling through search results of upcoming open mics in the area, turning to the side as she met the double doors of her office floor and nudging herself through them with ease.

A low murmur of whispers surrounded her as she trekked along to her desk, effectively breaking her focus. She glanced around, initially confused by the fact that so many people were still at their desks and not on their way out for lunch, and soon enough she followed the direction of their collective gazes all the way to her own desk.

She nearly tripped over her feet.

"The fuck…" she breathed, her footsteps becoming slow and chagrined. He sat there in plain sight, an air of nonchalance about him as he slumped back in her chair and stared at the ceiling, shaggy white hair sticking out in disarray from beneath a black beanie.

Her heart thudded harshly, telling reality from fiction and giving her a start. She locked her phone then, sliding it back into her pocket as she continued on towards her desk, straining within the scrutiny of her co-workers to act casual. She narrowed her eyes curiously, giving him a once over, or two, absorbing the situation one cautious step at a time.

He looked sick, to be honest, his too pale skin blending with his tattered white shirt in a concerning way. In contrast, his hair was more silver than it was white, and the closer she got to him the darker the bags under his eyes became. She grimaced.

Was this what he really looked like underneath all that high brand fashion and airbrush?

Coming up beside her desk, Karin cleared her throat, the act of it awkward and damn near inaudible. She held her stack of folders to her chest like a crutch.

"What are you doing here?"

Swivelling the chair to face her straight on, Hitsugaya cast her an all encompassing look, a small smile gracing his lips. She was close enough now to see the red that lined the rims of his eyes. "Ah, there you are," he accosted airily. "I was beginning to worry you'd gone home."

"It's the middle of the day," she informed him flatly. She glanced around then, her brows knitting suspiciously. "Um, how'd you know this was my desk?"

"The picture there tipped me off," he said simply, nodding to the photo on her desk. Her father had taken it at her and Yuzu's college graduation, capturing she and her twin standing on either side of their older brother as he hugged them, a proud and lopsided grin decorating his face. She'd fixed the photo in a small frame beside her computer monitor the day she'd been placed, and has owed her miraculously intact sanity to it ever since.

"I did ask around first," Hitsugaya added. "In A&R, specifically, but it appears you're not actually in that department."

"Never said I was," Karin defended easily.

"Never said you were _assistant to the assistant,_ either."

"Shut up," she spat, finally dropping the stack of folders on the edge of her desk. "You still haven't answered my question as to why you're here. I thought you had no business with me or my _soul-sucking_ label."

"Eh, chalk that up to a bad day," he waved off, his eyes glassy and far too cheerful. She scowled. "I've given it some real consideration these past few days, and, well, circumstances have changed."

She raised a brow. "Which means, what? You want to sign with us now?"

"Oh, yeah. Definitely." There was a strange tone to his voice, and she regarded him warily, not quite buying into his demeanor. He was acting nothing like he did the night they met.

"You don't have, like, multiple personality disorder, do you?"

"What?"

She frowned. "Nevermind." Chewing her lip uncertainly, Karin withdrew her phone again, tapping open the message thread between Shinji and herself. "Let me just message my friend in A&R so we can meet. Hopefully he hasn't left on break yet…"

"Ah, don't worry about that just yet," Hitsugaya cut in abruptly, standing up none too gracefully and grabbing his coat off the back of the chair. "Come on."

"Er… Where?"

"Your choice, really," he said flippantly, shrugging on his coat. He met her confused expression with a grin, the very definition of smug. "I'm gonna let you buy me lunch."

...


	3. keep in sight what makes you care

"I know this isn't an official business dinner or anything, but I hoped you'd at least take me someplace a bit more _classy."_

"Just shut up and order."

Standing lean and lanky at the counter of a nearby McDonalds, Hitsugaya stared up at the vast menu board above the registers, blue-green eyes looking over his choices in what appeared to be deep consideration. Beside him, Karin dug into her wallet for loose bills and change, her face scrunched in a scowl as the true scarcity of her funds came to light. She could almost hear Shinji at the back of her mind, how he would scold her on proper business etiquette and elegant dining if he were to find out that she'd taken such a sought after client for _fast-food,_ and just the mere thought of it had her bristling.

She'd have to swear her new acquaintance to a vow of secrecy.

Once Hitsugaya finally announced his order with a grin that had the attendant going red in the face, Karin doled out just the exact change into the server's palm, doing her best to ignore how much lighter her wallet felt while their designated tray filled with food so rapidly she nearly gagged at the thought of it's preparation.

"Not getting anything to eat?" Toushiro asked, studying the tray in her hands as they made for the dining area and noting that she'd only ordered a coffee.

"I'm not hungry," Karin lied, scanning the busy restaurant for empty seats. Plans to raid the staff pantry later were already set.

They found a small and miraculously vacant booth by the window, the cool draft emanating from the glass providing reprieve from the stuffy warmth of the restaurant and allowing Karin to stay happy and comfortable in her coat. Across from her, however, Toushiro had already begun to shrug off the bulk of his coat and sweater, greatly deteriorating in size. She tried not to gawk at how thin he was.

"So," she started, gingerly removing the lid of her coffee cup. Her lunch hour was far too short to bother with small talk. "About the contract and everything–'

"Do you own a couch?" Hitsugaya asked, and she blinked owlishly at him, watching as he took a giant bite out of his burger. It was unceremonious, the way he ate his food. Like a stray dog.

"Um… Yes?" Her brows wrinkled. "Why?"

He reached for a handful of fries. "And you live alone, I presume?"

Her glower was uncontrollable as always, albeit confused and therefore rather weak. "Yeah, what's it to you?"

"Well, I would feel kinda weird moving in if you had a significant other. I mean, I still _would,_ but I'd feel awfully uncomfortable about it."

"Moving in?" She eyed him warily. "Did I miss something? When was it decided that you were moving in?"

"Hm?" He glanced at her, blinking dazedly. "Oh, right, I hadn't gotten to that yet had I?" Shaking his head in spite of himself, Toushiro took a quick sip of his root beer, the focus of his eyes inattentive. He was beginning to piss her off. " _Apparently_ I'm being 'evicted', and I need a place to stay."

She bit her lip, words lingering uncertainly on her tongue. "Umm..."

"It'd only be temporary," he continued, unfazed. "I didn't want to even ask you, to be honest, given our lack of friendship and everything. But as it stands, you're the only person I know in this whole city who I can trust not to kill me in my sleep. Or worse."

She neglected to ask what could be worse than being killed in one's sleep, lest he actually answer. "Why are you being evicted, if you don't mind me asking?"

He'd begun piling his fries up Jenga style, bottom lip jutted out in concentration. "My landlord is a very apathetic man, you see. He doesn't seem to understand the cruciality of my situation."

"You're broke, aren't you?"

Toushiro faltered, looking taken aback. "I am not 'broke'," he spat defensively, knitting his brows together. He began nibbling on a fry then, looking away from her as he purposely mumbled. "I just…don't have any money…"

She stared at him in disbelief. "So, what? You expected to live with me for _free?"_

"Only temporarily!"

She scoffed, averting her eyes to the ceiling as she shook her head. What was this guy on? "Why can't you stay with your family or something?"

"I don't really have one." He ignored the jarred twist in her expression, finishing off his burger with one last sloppy intake. He licked his fingers thoughtfully. "I _do_ have a cousin who lives in Paris, though I doubt she'd want anything to do with me. I was kind of an ass to her last time we spoke."

"At least you're consistent," Karin commended dryly, her lips pulling into a tight line. She closed her eyes then, rubbing her left temple with calloused fingertips as she considered the situation. She didn't like it. "Is this why you've suddenly changed your mind? 'Cause you just need a paycheck?"

"Aren't you perceptive," he praised, bearing teeth in a crooked grin as he drew soda through his straw. His eyes glinted with a particular charm, so utterly self-assured. She wanted to punch him in the face.

"Unbelievable." Anger boiled in her chest, consuming her senses, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this pissed off. Grabbing her bag, Karin heaved herself out of the booth and strode away in a huff, leaving her coffee abandoned and untouched. Toushiro blinked an entire five seconds later, delayed reaction hitting him like a brick as he practically tripped over himself trying to get out of his seat, his coat only half pulled on and hanging heavy from his shoulders as he stumbled after her.

"Sorry– Sorry!" He bustled haphazardly through the busy restaurant, bumping into several people on his way to the exit. A gust of cold wind hit him as he burst through the doors and onto the sidewalk, and he inhaled sharply. "Kurosaki! Wait!"

She only walked faster, an annoyed groan ripping from her throat. Her fists clenched at her sides as he appeared beside her, breathless and frostbitten, and the semblance of the scene nearly made her laugh.

"Do you take me for an idiot?" she seethed, cutting him a sharp look. "Do you even _want_ to make music, or are you just looking to dish out some half-assed singles for a signing bonus before you bail and ruin my reputation?"

"What reputation?"

Her eyes seared into his like daggers. Shoving her hands in her coat pockets, Karin strained her tired skinny legs to move at an almost painful speed, desperately eyeing the upcoming entrance to her building.

"Will you just wait a second?" Toushiro pleaded, struggling to keep in step with her. "I'm serious about this, okay? _Trust me._ I've been trying to make new music for a while – _decent_ music – but it's been a little difficult to stay inspired when I can't even pay my rent and have to pawn off all my shit just to eat."

"Have you considered, oh, I don't know, getting a _job?_ "

"Jobs disrupt the creative flow."

Karin let out a hoarse laugh. "Right. Too much of a privileged bastard to lower yourself to the working class, I assume."

"I resent that."

"And I resent people who think everything should just be handed to them." She whipped around on him then, challenging his glare. "I at least hoped you'd have dropped the teenage-fame-syndrome shit by now."

His mouth curled in a snarl. "You don't know a _fucking_ _thing_ about me, Kurosaki."

"You're right, I don't."

"You sure act like you do."

She scoffed. "Well it's not like you're some famed enigma. You're whole persona is a fucking cliche."

"And yours isn't?" His tone was harsh, a rigid scowl distorting his features. She nearly recoiled from him. "Try some self-reflection before you go judging me, wouldja? 'Cause the whole 'downtrodden corporate lackey waiting for her big break' trope is practically tagged to your back."

Her jaw clenched, and she looked away, sweeping a glance over her snow covered boots. "I'm not ' _downtrodden'_ ," she grumbled, pouting slightly.

"Tell that to your face." Drawing a carton of smokes from his breast pocket, Toushiro popped a cigarette between his lips and lit it up quickly. He glanced over his shoulder to regard the obnoxious _Blue Lightning Records_ sign, eyes growing exceptionally softer as he exhaled. "Look, all I want is for us to help each other out. Y'know – I get my career back, you get a promotion, win-win and all that. I just...need a bit more _help_ than you do."

His voice rang sincerity, painting his face in a grimace, and she bit her lip. His gaze was painfully expectant.

"Okay." There was no point arguing with herself. The end result would be the same. "You're not signing any contracts, though, not yet. Not until you actually have some content. And no slacking."

His features grew sharp again, a cloud of smoke blowing into an unsuspecting school-kid's face as he huffed. "Fine."

She stuck out her pinky finger, her eyes dark and determined as she stared up at him. "Swear it."

He looked thoroughly offended, his face twisting further in dismay as he regarded her gesture. "What are we, grade schoolers?"

"Would you rather be punched in the face?" she offered easily, raising a brow. "I'm sure facial disfigurement will be a great debut album cover."

" _Ughhh._ " Glancing around them disconcertedly, he locked his own pinky finger with hers. "Alright, whatever. I _pinky swear–_ '

"–that you won't be your typical asshole self and screw me over, preferably _ever,_ but most importantly during our time working together."

"Yeah, that. Now can we please _stop–_ ' Tearing his finger away from hers, Toushiro brought his hand up to adjust his hat, cheeks colouring. " _That's embarrassing."_

"Oh my _God_ , you're such a child."

" _I'm_ the child?!"

Karin stepped back, steering herself towards her building. Her lips cut a shit-eating grin, wide and smart. "Pleasure doing business with you, Hitsugaya."

Frowning inherently, Toushiro let her dismissal linger for a few fruitful steps, cigarette held lazily between his fingers as he exhaled.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he coaxed, just loud enough for her to hear. Her brow wrinkled in question as she came to a halt, looking back at him over her shoulder. He smirked. " _Roomie._ "

She sucked in a sharp breath through her nose, her head snapping forward again. "Shit," she breathed, face scrunching up as she squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth. She'd forgotten that part. Taking a couple steps back, Karin turned on her heel, refusing to make direct eye contact as she came into his towering proximity again.

"Um, about that… Could we maybe, like, put your 'moving in' on the back burner? Just 'til I get to know you better and everything. Determine you're not a _psychopath._ Y'know, standard applications."

" _Ah._ And here I thought you had me all figured out." Concerning her distrustful stance, Hitsugaya relented. "I assure you I'm a very pleasant person."

"Unnerving, actually," she argued, shutting him down. "A little iffy, in my opinion."

He rolled his eyes, glancing heavenward as if in prayer. "Okay, considering I'm technically homeless tomorrow, I kinda need you to trust me _now._ Unless of course you'd like to put me up in a hotel."

"Do I look like a fucking _bank_ to you?"

"Not particularly." Karin scowled. "Well, is there any way I can convince you? Preferably before we freeze to death?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek, shoulders hunching as she huddled into the warmth of her coat. "You could tell me why your former bandmates hate you so much."

"They hate me? I wasn't aware."

"I'm serious. The friends one keeps can say a lot about them. You appear to have lost all of yours. I wanna know why."

His eyes strayed to the side, jaw clenched as he inhaled through his cigarette. He let the ashen nicotine burn and fester at the back of his throat.

"We had... _artistic differences._ Typical band stuff."

Karin frowned. "Lying to me isn't really gaining you any points."

"I'm not lying!"

"Telling me only partial truths is the same as lying, if you ask me."

He turned up his nose, haughty and childish. "I'm entitled to my secrets."

"And I'm entitled to not let you live with me."

"Fine," he spat, stalking past her dramatically. "Have fun being 'assistant to the assistant' for the rest of your life."

Was he actually _baiting_ her? She had to laugh, a light chuckle escaping her throat and burning like acid on her tongue. She shifted on the spot to stare after him, squinting as a gust of wind blew past her, ruffling her hair.

The sudden sound of her pager was like a distant, ignorable buzz in her ears, her boots crunching loudly along the icy snow-covered cement as she strode forward.

"Toushiro! Wait!"

As if lassoed, Hitsugaya halted his step instantaneously, looking back at her as though he were some wounded animal. Ridiculously annoying, this man was.

Withdrawing a pen from her bag, Karin began scribbling her address on an old bakery receipt, her entire body screaming with vehement reluctance as she neared him. She lingered in front of him awkwardly, clutching the pseudo-key to her home in her fingers.

"I suppose you're better than the alternative…"

"Um, thanks?"

Swallowing her doubt, Karin shot him a steely glare, practically holding his hand hostage as she pressed the slip of paper into his palm. " _Temporary."_

He inclined his head, tearing his hand gently from her hold. The way he smiled gave her a start.

"Temporary."

* * *

She found him cross-legged and sleeping when she stepped out of the elevator that night, a guitar case, a duffel bag, and a milk crate filled with records and varied possessions accompanying him as he camped in the hallway outside her door.

Switching the weight of her few grocery bags over to one hand and digging her keys out of her pocket with the other, Karin nudged the white-haired man's leg with her foot, stirring him awake. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, grumbling incoherently as he struggled to make his limbs work.

"Glad you found the place okay," Karin said blandly, turning to unlock her door. If there was any truth to her statement, neither of them heard it.

Standing upright, Toushiro slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbed the handles of his case and crate with each hand, trekking onto hardwood flooring as he followed her inside. Booting the door shut behind him before continuing along down the entrance hall, he considered the modest space with more judgement than he could afford.

He quickly found himself lacking pleasantries.

"Nice, uh, _place_ you've got here."

"It's small, I know. Get over it."

He passed the tiny kitchen in which she was currently flitting around, putting her groceries away in their designated places with a worn in grace about her, ending his short journey at the sofa. He could feel her watching him, as much as she clearly tried to pretend otherwise, and he flexed his fingers. They twitched with desperation.

Once she'd stuffed the empty plastic bags into a bag full of other plastic bags she had no idea why she kept, Karin propped herself up on one of the stools that lined the counter separating the kitchen from the living area, drawing an artless air about her as she glanced around.

"There's no T.V.," Toushiro deadpanned, sitting in the middle of her old red sofa as he pointed towards the apparent lack of entertainment.

"I keep it in my room," she said simply, picking at her fingernails. She spared him a quick glance. "I don't get much company…"

"I can't fathom why," he muttered sarcastically.

"I can kick you out anytime, y'know."

"Yeah, yeah." He waved her off with a flick of his wrist, leaning forward to look more closely at the short but lengthy shelf that sat against the opposite wall, of which he'd expected to host a television. Interest piqued in the light of his eyes, and he crossed the few feet of space between him and the shelf, kneeling down before it. "At least you have music," he said admiringly, inspecting her record collection with lazy fingertips and tired eyes.

"Oh, yeah. I had to keep a lot of it stored at my dad's, but I was able to bring most of my favourites."

"I don't see any of my albums."

"I said my _favourites._ "

"That hurts," he complained.

She smirked, sliding lithely from her stool and closing their distance, kneeling down a safe foot away from him. She pulled open the lone drawer at the bottom center of the shelf, rummaging around for a moment in a mess of CDs.

"This managed to tag along," she said flippantly, handing him her copy of _BLEACH'Ds_ first album. "You guys weren't _terrible,_ I suppose."

He took the CD from her slowly, staring at it with a sharply blank expression. The grain of his fingertips squeaked against the hard plastic case, gripping it tightly as his hand twitched. It had such a mediocre cover, just the four of them standing side by side, himself slightly more centered than the rest, all of them ridiculously dolled up and uncomfortably fake.

He hated it.

"Do you think you guys will ever get back together?" Karin asked, having taken his resigned trance as a bout of nostalgia. _Wistfulness._

He grimaced. "What good would that do…"

She tilted her head to the side, eyeing him calculatively. Her wishful thinking didn't bode well with him.

"I think I'm just gonna go to sleep, if that's cool. Kinda worn out." He flicked the CD back into the drawer carelessly, tearing his hat from his head as he stood up. He ran a hand through his hair, ignoring her studious gaze.

"Sure. I'll, uh, grab you a pillow and blanket."

Springing to her feet, Karin disappeared around the corner to what he assumed was her bedroom. In the spare moment, Toushiro rearranged his luggage into a neat pile beside the sofa, attempting a sort of good-guest gesture. He paled a bit from the suddenly strenuous movements.

He was slipping off his coat when Karin returned, a pile of linens and a pillow dropping soundlessly onto the sofa. She smiled at him, the type of smile that wanted to be genuine even as it struggled to maintain itself, and he barely managed to return the favour before she was gone again, the whisper of a 'good night' lingering in her wake.

He was beginning to come down, becoming too aware of everything. He waited for the click of her bedroom door closing before he went for his duffelbag, digging out a small ziplock bag, an old CD, and a pocket knife. He looked to the empty archway that connected the living room and the small hallway to the bedroom, staring at it owlishly and anxious as he crushed two blue pills with his blade, feeling them crack and crunch beneath his thumb. He took a second to frown at the now empty ziplock bag before he began lining up the powder with the edge of the knife, leaving it sloppy and jagged as he leaned in impatiently and sniffed it up in one brisk go.

He sat up quickly, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned back into the sofa cushions, and he blinked.

Just like that, he felt nothing.


	4. for a feeling you can't find

...

It was just before sunset when Hitsugaya woke up that first day, the winter sun harsh and unforgiving as it poured in through the large living room window, striking him hard in the face like a punishment whilst it bathed the floorboards of which he lay in an annoying yellowish-orange glare.

He hated waking up. He always slept too long, too late, and it left him pained in one way or another. It was as though he was allowed no reprieve. Blankets and pillows scattered his general area, his limbs tangled up in them uncomfortably. He fought with the blanket wrapped around his legs until exhaustion lagged his muscles pathetically quick, short breaths escaping him as he draped an arm over his eyes, shielding himself from the sun. He laid there a while longer, a non-existent clock ticking in his ear, counting minutes after minutes in his mind until he finally sat up, the room growing dark as the sun drew back behind the pinks and purples of the sky.

Heaving himself up off the floor with no lack of pain, joints he didn't know he had cracking in ways they probably shouldn't, Toushiro made his way to the bathroom, his body creaking in unison with the floorboards under his feet. His appearance caught him in the mirror as he washed his hands, and he felt his stomach lurch. He purposely avoided mirrors, and there was the reason, staring back at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes. His cheeks were sunken and bruised, his lips horribly chapped and nearly blue. There were blotches of pink and red scattered over his face and neck, obtrusive against his pale skin, and despite them being far and few between, it was enough to make him want to pull a paper bag over his head and wear it indefinitely. He looked old and haggard, and it was fucking depressing. Barely twenty-five and yet all the youth seemed to have drained from his face.

A feeling of unease struck him in the chest, his heart thrumming just a beat faster. He turned towards the shower almost unconsciously, turning the faucet knob at random and not even bothering to check if the water was right before discarding his clothes and stepping in. The water was near scalding, but he hardly noticed and immediately grabbed a bottle of shampoo, a strawberry scent wafting over him as he lathered his hair, scrubbing his scalp roughly. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, attempting to even out his breathing and drown the sounds of his scrambled thoughts. His face scrunched as he ran a soapy facecloth over his skin, wincing as it began to meet the jagged edges of his body, of which had become little more than flesh and bone. He tried not to pay attention, feigning ignorance to how his ribs and hips stuck out like sharp ridges on his frame, how his collar bone shot out like knives on his shoulders, catching the facecloth as he drug it along carelessly. Every inch of him was sharp and poignant, a miracle in and of itself for not collapsing. It made him feel sick.

He didn't linger, standing at the door just a few minutes later with a towel wrapped around his middle and his head peeking out of the bathroom, checking for sure that the Kurosaki girl hadn't returned yet from work. He heard no noise or sign of movement, and with that he hurried over to the couch and heaved his duffel bag onto the cushions, rummaging for the cleanest clothes he could find. He layered up as much as was comfortable, if only to seem more bulky than he was. He doubted its success, but nonetheless pulled a long sleeved shirt on over his tee before slipping into his hoodie.

The clock above the sink read 5:47 when he stuck his head under the tap for a drink of water, swishing the liquid around in his mouth before spitting it down the drain. He had this instinctive urge not to be here when Karin got home, like interacting with her was some sort of hurdle, and it was only fueled further by the fact that she'd left him a key. He reckoned she'd be home any minute now.

He laced his boots with rash fingers, rushing himself. He patted down the pockets of his coat quickly, already heading for the door before he even had his hat on, damp silver locks sticking out in all directions. He took the time to lock the door behind him, slipping the key into his breast pocket as he walked indiscreetly down the hallway, taking a quick left for the stairs just as the elevators dinged.

* * *

It was past five o'clock, she noticed. An old-fashioned red clock sat on a table in the corner of the room, and Karin eyed it attentively whilst she picked at a rip in the arm of the chair she sat in, the fake expanse of leather having become brittle and not easy to ignore. Hirako sat opposite her, on the other side of his large oak desk. There were a dozen or so records on the wall behind him; his favourites, she reckoned, and she eyed them as well. She trivialized her mind to remember every song she could from every album on the wall before her, all to pass the time while Hirako just sat and stared at nothing, his chin resting on his knuckles, too thoughtful than was necessary.

She hadn't wanted to tell him the situation with Hitsugaya, at least not right away when it was all so up in air, but she also hadn't wanted to seem, later on, as though she'd been lying to him. Because that's how he'd take it, she knew. He liked to be dramatic that way.

"Well… Alright, then." Shinji finally said, with a distinct lack of expression that made her uncomfortable. There was a peculiar glint in his eyes when he looked at her again. "Not how the common person would've gone about it, but you got him in your reigns all the same."

She grimaced at his choice of words. "Don't get your hopes up just yet," she warned, a tinge of bitterness in her voice. "He's a bit...unhinged."

"Most artists are." He smiled then, crooked and knowing. She scowled at him. "Besides, if you're willing to devote your own personal time and space to him, then you must trust him to hold up his end of the deal to at least some extent."

Karin glared at the floor. She honestly wasn't sure how she felt about the situation, only that something about Hitsugaya threw her off balance, more so than how finding him passed out on her living room floor that morning nearly gave her an apoplexy. It was as though his very presence was a tornado warning; impending chaos.

"I hope you'll be cautious though, all the same." He was acting rather stern, and she didn't like it very much. "I can see something like this getting out of hand if the wrong approach is taken."

"You've nothing to worry about, honestly." Karin eyed the clock once again. _5:13._ The next train uptown left in twelve minutes. She shifted pointedly, gathering her things and standing up. "I've gotta get going. I'll be sure to keep you updated."

He merely nodded, his expression straight and unreadable as he watched her leave.

There's a very particular look only someone older and more experienced can project. It's irksome, and almost patronizing, and she swore she could feel it bore into her back as she exited the office.

* * *

He could never retrace his steps. How he got from point A to point B, what it was he did and took along the way that made him forget to pay attention. It was always unclear.

He'd ended up in someone's loft apartment by the end of the night. Someone's crowded, stuffy ass apartment in god knows where, with no familiar faces in sight other than maybe that one guy across the room with his face perpetually stuck in a cloud of bong smoke. Blotches of light blurred his vision, colourful lanterns and strings of little white lights hung all around the walls and off the ceiling. A girl lay on the floor near his feet, sweat beading along her forehead as she stared dazedly up at the ceiling, a dense smile plastered on her face. She'd been a blurry fragment in his vision when they'd met earlier that night, she and her friends having lured him out of the Kabukicho district, into a subway train and off to an untold destination. He wasn't even sure if he was still in Shinjuku.

At some point he peeled himself up from the couch, like he'd been there for years and had molded into it, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He'd misplaced his lighter, no doubt having let someone use it and forgotten to get it back. He felt uneasy as he made his way around the room, unsure where he was aiming to go. He caught several looks from people as he crept around, sweat beginning to trickle down his back, misting along his hairline.

"Need a light?"

The voice rang like an echo in his ears, sudden and piercing, and he blinked hard, nearly losing his cigarette to the floor. A girl stood against the wall just a foot or two away from him, all big eyes and bangs and fake lashes. She didn't wait for him to answer, lighting him up as he struggled to maintain himself, his mind reeling. He took a long and desperate drag, praying it would calm his nerves a bit. And it did, for the moment it took him to notice the three other people who accompanied the girl, particularly the one closest to him on the left, who was staring at him as if he sported some sort of facial defect and she didn't know how to be polite about it.

"Don't mind Jess," the first girl said. "She's just a little star-struck. Big fan."

He inched a little to his right, shifting uncomfortably. Taking another drag of his cigarette, Toushiro scanned the room, making note of what looked like the exit door on the other side.

"I always thought people were lying when they said they'd spotted you at these kind of parties," one guy said, snapping Toushiro's attention back to the group of strangers before him. "You really did fall off the deep end, then, eh?"

The girl with the bangs hit the back of her hand against the guy's chest, glaring at him pointedly.

" _What?"_

"It's so crazy to meet you in person," came another voice from his left, the girl named Jess having embarked on his personal space so rapidly his heart lurched, his body jerking back defensively. Her eyes were dark and bloodshot as they bore into his, daunting and expectant. "How've you been since the incident? It was so heartbreaking to the fanbase when you left the band–'

"Incident? What incident?" the other guy finally spoke, drawing the girl's attention away.

Toushiro didn't linger long enough to hear what was said next, the broach of subjects he didn't like already fucking with his mind, his body swaying him back into the crowd instinctively. It felt like his chest was concaving, sucking the air from his lungs. Stumbling with an increasing loss of feeling in his legs, he made his way across the room, lunging haphazardly through a door he soon found lead to the bathroom rather than outside. He heaved a bout of nothingness into a nearby sink, gripping the porcelain edges firmly with his hands. He squeezed his eyes shut, tightly, tears having begun to well from the dryness. He breathed slowly, in and out, in and out, the loud thumping of his heart the only thing he could hear until a stream of laughter broke his trance.

Eyes snapping open, Toushiro turned around warily, waves of heat creeping along his skin. Three people sat huddled in the bathtub, faces stretched out with grins and bugged eyes, the grimy lighting of the room painting them in shadows. There was an overturned disc on the edge of the tub, an unmistakable white powder scattered about it like dust.

He swallowed thickly, his throat dry and rough. The beat in his chest jolted excitedly as he stared, and he curled his hands into fists at his sides, knuckles cracking eagerly.

"Hey, man," a rough voice called. Toushiro's gaze darted towards its source, a young man with glistening brown eyes and a wide grin, who had clearly noticed him staring.

Toushiro felt his cheeks colour in embarrassment. "Er – sorry."

"'Wanna join us?" the younger man asked before he'd had chance to turn away, the two girls also in the tub giggling in unison.

Toushiro watched as one of the girls shook out a new pile of cocaine onto the disc and began cutting it into four lines with the edge of what looked to be a student ID card. The decision was made for him then, his previous need to escape the loft dissipating as quickly as it took him to settle himself into the tub.

* * *

Three nights had passed since Karin arrived home to find him gone. His stuff was still there, so she'd reckoned he hadn't just bolted, but nonetheless she stayed up in bed waiting, watching television until nearly three in the morning when she finally gave into her heavy eyelids and fell asleep. When he wasn't there in the morning when she woke up, or in the evening when she got home from work, she repeated the same thing, drama reruns playing on her flat screen as she chewed her nails down to jagged little nubs.

On the third night she lied awake even longer, her eyes tired and burning but unable to stay closed, a pit of anxiety swelling deep in her stomach. She eventually drifted off to sleep, managing nearly a whole hour before her alarm sounded and she was wide awake again, opposing her usual routine of hitting snooze and sleeping in for continuous nine minute intervals. Her head felt heavy as she drew herself out of bed, nausea slithering around in her stomach.

She'd splashed cold water on her face and was patting it dry with a hand towel when she heard the distinct sound of a key turning in a lock, followed by the creak of her apartment door opening, and she stilled. Her eyes drew to the side, cautious as she listened to the indiscreet scuffle of boots against the hardwood floor, a sudden crash making her jump. Returning the hand towel to it's hook on the wall, Karin exited the bathroom, her hand immediately feeling for the switch on the wall near the kitchen, flipping the main light on.

Toushiro was attempting to stand up again, using the arm of the sofa to heave himself to his feet. She felt a sting of anger in her chest as she watched him, the way he staggered around trying to take his boots and jacket off at the same time, realizing he was simply drunk and most likely high, instead of any of the horrible scenarios that had been running through her head for nearly three days straight.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

His eyes met hers immediately, and he looked horrid and sick and dirty, and her stomach twisted with both concern and disgust.

"I went out," he replied simply.

"You were gone for _three_ _days!_ "

He looked at her blankly, like he didn't realize, like it didn't matter, and her throat dried up, threatening unwanted emotion because she'd become so frustrated she wanted to cry.

"I was fucking worried about you, you piece of shit." Her voice croaked, and she gritted her teeth.

A long sleeved shirt hung from one arm when he paused, his gaze falling on her once again but seeming out of focus. His mouth moved to say something, but he cut himself off, his eyes darting around the room aimlessly while he folded his sweater into a ball, his hands fidgeting awkwardly with the cloth.

"I...um, I forgot how to get back."

She faltered, and he wasn't looking at her, but at the floor and the walls and the ceiling, actively avoiding her scrutiny.

She let herself soften, but kept her tone. "Don't let yourself get lost, then." He stilled once again, his jaw tightening. "As much as you don't deserve it, I happen to actually care about your well-being. So I'd appreciate it if you'd respect that and get your shit together."

He was glaring at the floor when she left him to get dressed for work, adding that she'd change the locks if he ever pulled this type of shit again, and when she returned he'd already disappeared into the bathroom, the pipes sounding noisily as the shower started to run.

* * *

He didn't leave the couch all weekend, his back turned to her whenever she passed by, always appearing to be asleep.

It was a Tuesday night, the following week, when Karin came home to find him sitting at her counter, glasses set at the end of his nose as he sat hunched over a tattered notebook. The glasses throw her off, coupling with the fact that he appeared to be wearing clean clothes for once. It wasn't until he looked up, pushing the black frames up to the bridge of his nose and cocking a brow at her, that she snapped to.

Ducking her head with a clear of her throat, Karin went about untying her boots, tossing each aside uncaringly before removing her scarf and jacket. He'd gone back to staring at his notebook when she launched herself into the kitchen, immediately searching for a snack. The scratch of his pen on paper was loud and aggressive, and it buzzed unwelcomely in her ears. She threw him glances over her shoulder as she rummaged through her cupboards, noting here and there the furrow of his brow, the tightening of his jaw, how his clearly old and worn glasses kept sliding down his nose. He seemed so frustrated, and she wondered if this was how all artists wrote their songs. She'd never actually witnessed the process.

Finally extracting a bag of chips from where they'd been wedged into on a shelf, Karin leant against the lower counter top that made a boxy C shape around her kitchen, the chip bag crinkling in her grasp as she settled a rather keen stare on the man to her left, who was still scribbling madly with little to no pause.

"I didn't know you wore glasses," she said eventually as she popped a chip in her mouth, a grimace overtaking her face as she realized they were stale.

A whole thirty seconds passed before his pen stopped and he looked at her, his expression lacking. Another five seconds and he'd resumed his scribbles, half-lidded eyes boring into the pages of his notebook once again.

She frowned.

"They're just for reading and stuff," he replied as if there hadn't been any delay. "I never wore them outside my home or the studio because it would've apparently 'damaged my brand'."

A laugh tickled her throat. "Publicists?"

"Publicists." He gritted his teeth. "Bunch of useless prats."

A silence fell, and despite their expiration, Karin continued to nibble on the chips, enjoying the salt shamelessly. She would've continued observing the man at her counter, too, if it hadn't been for the glare he shot her not two minutes later.

"You're very distracting. Did you know that?"

She returned the glare instantaneously, throwing a chip in her mouth as she pushed herself off the counter with her hip, munching loudly out of spite. He paid her no mind as she rounded the counter and set off for her bedroom, holding her glare the entire time.

She spared him one last look before disappearing behind her door, watching his back tense up as he tore a page from his notebook and crumpled it angrily, tossing it to the side. Then, with a forced calmness about him, he picked up his pen and began scribbling once again, running a hand through his hair.

The term 'progress' rang in her mind, and she smiled.

...


	5. you can't run from your shame

"This is all fucking shit."

His words were followed by the distinct sound of his guitar hitting the floor, blaring a sad acoustic _thunk_ , and Karin halted in the archway of the living room, a small fleece blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she leaned against the wall and observed him in amusement. His notebook had become like an extra appendage those past couple weeks, cherished and important, yet here he was nearly ripping it in half, ink ridden pages scattering the floor around him. It took until about a third of the book was torn out and nearly ten curses had fallen from his lips before she gave any indication that she was watching, a laugh erupting in her throat before she could help it.

He shot her an immediate glare.

"Did you even sleep?"

The way he frowned, the bags under his eyes becoming even more poignant and shadowed within the scrunch of his face, told her no. She was barely surprised, though. He hadn't slept a wink in days.

"Lyrics are fucking bullshit," he spat indignantly, chucking the remains of his notebook across the floor. "I'm tempted to just smash my head into a keyboard and go with the results."

"You're being ridiculous."

"I am not."

"Are too."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck _you._ " He blinked at her, and she grinned. "Care to join me for breakfast? I make a wicked bowl of cereal."

He rolled his eyes as she glided around the counter and into the kitchen, setting two bowls and spoons on the counter without pause. He didn't even like cereal, couldn't even think of anyone but her who _did_ like cereal, but he made his way over nonetheless, heaving himself onto a stool and watching her flit around, grabbing a jug of milk from the fridge and three different boxes of cereal from the cupboard.

"At least two of these are bound to be stale, but I'm sure they taste just fine." He gave her a dubious look, which she actively ignored as she hopped onto the stool beside him, shaking a large portion of the most sugary looking cereal into her bowl.

"I can never get them straight," he said after several minutes of nonstop munching had passed, more from her end than his. His own cereal had grown soggy, and he stirred it around distractedly with his spoon. "I've never been very good at expressing myself through words. They always seem to lack the proper elegance."

Karin had finished her cereal already, chewing her last mouthful slowly and quietly. "How'd you write all those songs, then?" she asked a minute later, making her way over to the fridge once again for a glass of juice. She watched him out of the corner of her eye.

"I didn't write them on my own… It was always a group thing." His face softened gloomily, as it so often did, and she bit her lip thoughtfully.

"Do you think maybe you miss your friends? Like you need the structure of an actual band to work properly."

He grimaced. "Like I need those pieces of shit."

Karin frowned, but she had a feeling deep down that he didn't actually mean it. He never really seemed to mean it, when he insulted his old friends, acting as though they were the scum of the earth. His eyes were always just too pained to give off the illusion of hatred he so desperately tried to portray, and she constantly found herself fighting off the urge to call him out on it.

"I have to run some errands today, do you wanna come with? Get some air?"

He glanced at her, and she swore he looked disappointed, as though it bothered him that she changed the subject. Because she always changed the subject, because he always backed her into a corner that left her with the option of either telling him he was full of shit, or starting a new topic entirely. He seemed to have finally caught on.

However, he didn't broach it, simply closing his eyes and exhaling dejectedly. "Sure."

She headed back to her bedroom to get changed, throwing her blanket back on the bed. She paused abruptly when she went to her dresser for a pair of jeans and socks and caught a look at the thin folder laying on top of it. Hirako had put together a research file on the band BLEACH'D and it's members, rather unnecessarily because _internet_ , and it had never occurred to her to look through it until now. She wasn't exactly sure of her objective, but nonetheless she combed through the folder until she found a page with Kuchiki Rukia's contact information, or rather her manager's, and quickly went about typing it into her phone, setting a reminder to call the number the next day while she was at work.

She needed a new perspective.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Karin asked suspiciously, halting in her step when she noticed Toushiro in the kitchen, kneeling on the countertop as he rifled through the shelves of her cupboards.

He'd been acting rather odd for the last few days, very erratic and just altogether _off_ , and she was becoming worried that he was having some kind of mental breakdown. He looked exceptionally ill today, his eyes sunken and red as he looked at her, sweat beading along his forehead. It made her grimace.

"Just browsing," he replied blankly.

She peered at him skeptically, socked feet wisping along the floor as she continued on to the entryway, pulling on her boots before she turned to the coat closet, searching for a jacket that would make her look somewhat financially stable and important like the high up professional she exaggerated herself to be when on the phone with Kuchiki Rukia's manager. Even if Rukia herself wasn't superficial, the vibes she got over the phone from her manager said that at least _she_ was, and Karin would be damned if she let some bitter old hag judge her even by her clothes.

"And what are _you_ doing, looking all fancy and such." Toushiro prodded, sauntering across the kitchen towards her with only a slight wobble in his step, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the fridge. "Got a date?"

Karin laughed. "Right, as if I actually get asked on dates anymore."

Hitsugaya frowned at this, and Karin froze momentarily in befuddlement, not quite understanding his response. "I'm just going out," she relented, finally drawing out a navy blue peacoat from the closet and shrugging it on.

"Where?"

"Nowhere that concerns you." He merely scoffed, clearly holding back an argument, and her gaze got momentarily caught on where his nails were digging a blotchy red mess into his bicep, his whole body seeming oddly tensed. She sighed tiredly then, sparing him a look as she picked up her overly large handbag from the floor. "I'll be back in a couple of hours. I'm sure you'll survive."

Turning to the door, Karin scowled at the awkwardness of the bag hanging off her arm, feeling put off by it. She'd had this thing for years but hadn't ever thought to use it until today, and she was certain in that moment that it'd be the only time she used it. Toushiro was still sulking behind her, glaring at the floor, and she rolled her eyes at him as she stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

She arrived at her destination about twenty minutes later, just ten minutes before she was scheduled to. The meeting had been made very tight and hesitantly, thrown in between a fitting and a flight and causing a particular model's last day in Shinjuku to be busy one.

She scanned the lobby's directory briefly before she headed up the stairs to the third floor, entering one of at least two dozen office spaces owned by this particular modeling agency, the other twenty-three scattered about the country in various cities. There was a large 'C' shaped desk in front of the title wall in the center of the space, a rather annoyed looking woman sitting behind it with a phone to her ear, and Karin approached it tentatively.

"Um, excuse me," she tried, wringing her hands. This place gave her the creeps, almost dead silent if not for the low murmur of the woman talking on the phone. "I'm here to see Kuchiki Rukia."

The woman looked at her then, seeming perturbed by her presence, and snapped her fingers towards the wall behind Karin, where a couple of chairs sat divided by a small table. She took her seat and pretended to read one of the fashion magazines left on the table, glancing around the room every so often in a skeptical manner. She observed only the shiny dress shoes and neatly crumpled pant legs of the few people who drifted in and out of the waiting area.

Several minutes had passed before she heard the click-clacking of expensive heels coming down the hallway, and Karin forced herself to appear casual and confident, not daring to take her eyes off the magazine in her lap. The article she'd stumbled upon was actually quite interesting.

"Kurosaki Karin?"

Her head snapped up immediately, her previous plan flailing in the wind. A middle-aged woman with short black hair and a rather sleek pant suit was staring at her expectantly, and Karin fumbled with her stupidly large handbag as she attempted to stand up with grace.

"Yes?"

The woman appeared to be assessing her, giving her a deliberate and studious once over, and Karin easily pegged her as the manager she'd spoken to on the phone. "Uh huh…" The sound was so precise and quick that she barely caught it, but she did, and she fought the urge to sneer in response. "She's ready to see you now."

The woman gestured down the hallway she'd just emerged from, and Karin merely nodded, straightening her jacket before trekking past the woman and down the dim corridor, the walls blank and bare and causing her to feel awfully closed in and far more uncomfortable than she already was.

A man and a woman passed her on her way, wearing perfectly messy hairstyles and stern expressions, measuring tape hanging from their necks as they pushed along a garment rack packed to the brim with expensive looking clothing. She felt unusually small as they stalked past her, the air following them so pretentious that she nearly choked on it.

She rapped her knuckles on one of the open double doors as she entered, the informality of just walking in making her feel awkward. She fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, her feet slow and hesitant as she furthered herself into the room, the heels of her boots clacking somewhat obnoxiously against the marble floor. She scanned her surroundings briefly, all stark white walls and high windows like the rest of the building, her gaze eventually landing still on the far corner of the room.

Kuchiki Rukia was in front of a large three-panelled mirror, stepping down off a short platform as she tied the band of her pearly white robe tight around her waist, short black hair tucked behind her ears. She moved rather exhaustively, but her eyes were bright and brilliantly violet when they met Karins, and it made her heart flutter. She looked like a painting, like her entire person was handcrafted with utmost precision, and Karin fought with a sudden feeling of inadequacy.

"You can leave as well," Rukia said blankly, no longer looking at Karin but at the suited man standing beside the door. He seemed taken aback. "I'm sure I can handle her just fine on my own if she tries to attack."

Karin's cheeks tinged at the very thought, and Rukia smiled. "Tea?"

Her slippers scuffed lightly along the smooth marble as she walked, beckoning Karin towards a small common area that housed a mere three pieces of furniture; an armchair, a sofa, and a coffee table. The set looked fancy and unused, easily told by the lack of wear on the light pink leather and absence of scratches in the wood. Rukia took her place in the armchair, one leg crossing over the other, while Karin sat off-center on the sofa, draping her jacket and scarf over her lap so her hands had something to bother with.

"Hope you don't mind me eating during this," Rukia said, sounding almost embarrassed yet wasting no time in opening the plastic sandwich container sitting on the table. "I've had fittings all morning and haven't gotten the chance."

Karin shook her head in a needless response, dropping three cubes of sugar into her tea and stirring it lazily. She glanced at the older woman just in time to see her wiping mayonnaise from her cheek, nearly half of her sandwich already gone.

They spoke of trivial things at first, incited by Karin in an attempt to make herself feel more comfortable and familiar. Which worked magnificently, the way in which Rukia's face glowed when she spoke enough to set anyone at ease. They were strapped for time, Karin knew, but there was a light tugging on her nerves, leaving her less inclined to move on to the reason she was there, if only to keep from uncomfortable conversation.

"So I was told you're from Blue Lightning Records?" Rukia prompted eventually, setting her empty sandwich container aside as she reached into a small box of mini powdered doughnuts, dabbing her mouth delicately with a napkin. Karin merely nodded in reply. "What do you do there?"

"Um… well I'm just an assistant right now, but I'm kind of in the process of being promoted to the Artists and Repertoire department."

"Ooh, nice." The woman gazed at her expectantly, seeming genuinely interested, and Karin almost blushed, her heart warming if only for a moment. "So what brings you here, then?"

"Uh…" Karin's pulse quickened, her mouth going dry as the ceaseless lack of confidence she'd unwittingly developed over the past year and a half spread through her chest like wildfire. It made her want to scream. "I was, um, hoping to talk to you about Hitsugaya Toushiro, actually."

Rukia's face fell, her lips pulling into a tight line. "I recently began working with him," Karin continued on hastily, a tinge of panic creeping in as she worried she might've hit too big of a nerve too soon. "Kind of like a test project before I can get the promotion, getting him back on track with music and recruiting him to the label."

The model snorted. "How's that going for you?"

Karin couldn't help her grimace, her head tilting slightly. "It's not exactly _easy,_ to be honest _._ He's a bit… Well, _out of order_."

The woman frowned. "So he hasn't gotten better…"

Rukia sounded unsurprised, like she'd known for a fact that he hadn't, yet the way she looked to the floor made it clear she was bothered to hear it all the same. Karin was about to continue on with her reunion pitch, but felt her meddling curiosity steer her elsewhere. "He wasn't always like this, I'm guessing."

Rukia shook her head, her legs curling up beneath her as she re-situated in her chair.

"He was probably the most arrogant little shit I'd ever met," she remarked offhandedly, fiddling with her napkin. She seemed to do the same thing Toushiro did when insulting his old friends, in a fronted way, ingenuine and trivial. It was almost funny. "But even so, he was extremely kind, and so brilliant it was annoying. And of course he was _stable…_ Or at least as stable as anyone with his life could've been…"

Karin fiddled with the tendrils on her scarf, wrapping the loose black yarn around her fingers and trying to picture in her mind's eye a Toushiro like the one Rukia described. It came up blurry.

"He was my best friend," she admitted quietly, a delicate hand smoothing her robe over her legs. "I mean, all four of us were incredibly close, but he was special… Renji and Shuuhei had a habit of getting caught up with other things, and it wasn't like I blamed them for having lives and relationships or anything, but they always seemed to check out without warning and leave me on my own."

She shifted then, reaching for her teacup distractedly, and Karin noted a familiar nuance of grief that had softened her features.

"Toushiro was always there, though," Rukia continued, trailing her thumb along the rim of her cup distractedly. "No matter what he had going on, he was always there for us. I think it may have lost him a girlfriend or two along the way, but it never seemed to faze him, or stop him from putting us above everyone else. Well, except for his sister, but that's just plain logic–'

"Sister?" Karin blurted out, brows knitting together. "I didn't know he had a sister."

"No?" Rukia looked at her then, briefly, her lips pursing thoughtfully as she stared into her teacup. "I guess it makes sense he wouldn't have told you, considering you've only just met and all…"

"Why's that?"

There was a heavy pause, a troubled expression twisting the model's features, and Karin felt the tendons of her heart begin to coil before the words were even spoken.

"She died," Rukia finally said, her tone distant as she looked toward the windows, the sun barely peeking through the throng of dark grey clouds outside. Karin sat still and blank, her index finger growing pink from the strain of yarn wrapped tightly around it. "It happened shortly before our fallout, and to be honest was partly the reason for it. It really tore him apart."

There was an irregular rhythm in her voice as she spoke, and Karin had begun to feel exceptionally guilty for her lack of tact, wishing she hadn't pried.

"He was very different after… Almost mad, in a way. Irrational. It didn't take us long to notice the signs…" Trailing off discreetly, she began chewing her lip in a tentative manner, combing her fingers through her hair and tucking loose locks back behind her ears once more. Her chest felt heavy, a drift of topic leaving a gaping seam between her words. "Has he been able to write at all?"

It took several seconds for the words to reach Karin's brain, and she blinked stupidly, her eyes burning from the lack of moisture in the air. Rukia was staring at her, expectant, and she looked sad and pale, and Karin became instantly unconvinced that the woman before her hated Hitsugaya at all.

"He's been writing non-stop for weeks, but most of it either gets scratched out or thrown in the trash. Earlier this week he nearly tore his notebook to shreds." This didn't seem to settle her in the slightest, and Karin bit her lip, casting her eyes to the floor again. "He said he never had to write by himself before. That it was always a group thing."

There was a pause, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Rukia's lips quirk.

"He hated writing lyrics," she explained, her voice evening out again. "Acted as though they weren't even important, can you imagine? I mean, he was a _genius_ when it came to writing the music and arranging the songs, but was more of an editor in terms of the lyrics. It was mostly Shuuhei and I that wrote them, and then he'd just look them over for a while. He was very odd in that way, never adding or taking out any lines, simply changing the words we used like he was a fucking thesaurus."

Karin couldn't help her grin, and when she looked to the woman again she was smacking her lips distastefully, setting her cup back on the table. The tea had gone cold.

"Would you ever consider working with him again?"

The model simply shook her head, like she'd been expecting the question all along. "It's a nice thought, but with everything that's happened I doubt it would work."

Karin's face fell before she could help it, and Rukia gave her a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes. "Sorry."

Karin opened her mouth to speak, to apologize for making her apologize, but was cut off by the sound of the doors creaking open.

"Ms. Kuchiki," the secretary whose name she didn't catch called, standing in the doorway with an air of purpose. "It's soon time to leave for the airport. We're getting the car ready."

Rukia nodded, looking tired at the mere thought of travel. _Spring fashion week in Milan,_ she drawled exhaustedly. _Yay…_

The secretary left the doors open as she headed back down the hall, her heels clacking against the floor and echoing loudly, and Karin took it as her cue to leave. She just managed to get her coat on before a jolt of recollection had her rummaging through her handbag, several moments of muffled silence sweeping over them. She eventually withdrew a small white business card from her work, along with a pen, and began scribbling her number and address on the back as quickly and neatly as she could.

"Here." Rukia took the card with a questioning look, and Karin busied herself with her scarf. "He's living at my place for the time being, so if you ever want to visit him…"

She cut herself off there, feeling slightly awkward as she drummed her fingers against her legs and turned to leave. "Anyway, thank you for your time."

"Karin?" Rukia called a moment later, making her pause halfway out the door. She gave her a meaningful look, like she was trying to communicate something important to avoid having to actually say it, her tone deliberately stern as she spoke. "Take care."

* * *

She felt burdened with knowledge, like she'd trespassed on private territory and was now facing a prison sentence of overwhelming guilt and shame. Self inflicted and self proclaimed, of course. A little dramatic, but not nearly as dramatic as Toushiro would be if he found out, and that was enough to make her repentance feel justified.

Arriving home late that evening after roaming aimlessly around the city for two hours, Karin stripped off her jacket and scarf in the dark entryway of her apartment, finding a strange comfort in it. Only when she'd kicked off her boots and took a fortifying breath did she flick the nearest switch, squeezing her eyes shut in dismay as the main light flashed bright and loud above her.

As she ventured further into her flat with a quest for pajamas on her mind, a shallow groan sounded from the shadows of her living room, causing an abrupt halt in her step. She'd assumed he'd gone out since there had been no light or sign of life when she walked through the door, but as she turned towards the sound, she realized she'd been wrong. Instead, he was curled up on the floor by the sofa, looking exceptionally dreadful as he lay amongst a scattered mess of clothes and various other possessions that she figured were from the overturned milk-crate nearby.

"Toushiro?" Approaching steadily, Karin knelt down beside him, feeling an uncanny tinge of panic swell in her stomach as she got a closer look at him. "Are you alright? What happened?"

His eyelids fluttered, a groan sounding deep in his throat as he grasped at the cloth of the t-shirt he hadn't quite managed to take off his person completely, muttering something nearly incomprehensible.

"I… I couldn't find any… I ran out…"

Her features grew sharp and anxious, eyes roaming over his crumpled and rigid form as her mind raced, noting the layer of sweat that coated his body, gleaming along the sunken ridges of his frame. She chewed the inside of her cheek, her face scrunching with uncertainty. She could only guess at what it was, and was left absolutely stumped on how to handle it.

He was barely helpful as she heaved him onto the couch, curses falling from her lips in threes. The room was blurring, spinning around and around, and he couldn't keep his eyes open long enough to focus. He felt Karin leave his side, her vivid presence drifting a few feet away from him, her figure becoming a mere silhouette. She was on the phone now, he discerned, talking to someone she addressed as 'Dad' with words he couldn't make out, her voice vexed and distant.

He opened his eyes again to find her right beside him, her eyes too big and too stressed as she stared into his. _You're gonna be fine,_ she whispered, the back of her hands brushing over his temples gently, a cold and damp cloth draping along his forehead, and he could feel words bubble up in his throat, sticking uncomfortably…

"Well Christ, does he eat?"

The voice was gruff, and Toushiro wasn't certain how long he'd drifted off for, but all of a sudden a tall male figure was standing over him. His stomach lurched painfully, his neck craning to the side and away from the pairs of eyes that looked down on him, analyzing him. He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself under his breath.

"Do you know what he takes?"

The sound of his heartbeat buzzed in his ears, cackling as he swallowed.

"I don't know… Not like he does them in front of me…"

The tissues of his bones tingled uncomfortably throughout his body. He wanted to scratch them out.

"Different drugs cause different issues… It's best to know which ones he usually takes…"

"Toushiro… Hey…" Her hand was warm against his cheek, tilting his head towards her. He tried his hardest to stay with her, to focus on her eyes and her lips as she spoke to him, asking things he couldn't answer. He tried to connect his mind to his mouth, but the world was slipping away from him, and all he could do was breath, his hands grasping desperately for something to hold onto and clutching the sides of the sofa cushions.

Their voices became soft and obscure as his consciousness wandered, flitting about the dizzying room.

 _Shiro…_

His eyes snapped open abruptly, wide and alert, but he still couldn't see, shadows dancing around in his vision. The voice had been so clear, that dismayed moan he'd heard too many times in his life not to remember, and he swore he saw her face, her chocolate brown eyes in a perpetual state of worry, a pout resting on her lips, and he felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked from his lungs.

 _I told you to take better care of yourself…_

A sob escaped his throat, hoarse and tormented, and Karin tensed up further, locks of hair falling loose from the messy bun she'd tied atop her head. Her father was knelt down on the floor beside her, unusually grim as he looked from his daughter to the ailing man on her sofa and back, his lips a tight line.

"There isn't much else we can do but wait for it to pass. The symptoms will grow mild eventually, and he'll come out of it at least for a little while until it hits him again."

' _I ran out…'_ His words from earlier echoed in her mind, and Karin's shoulders slumped, her frown growing deeper. He wasn't going through this on purpose, she could figure that much out on her own, and he'd be out getting his fix long before it happened again, even if he had to crawl there.

Isshin exhaled then, zipping his medical bag closed and getting to his feet. Karin followed suit, her eyes lingering on Hitsugaya just a moment longer before she trailed after her father, headed towards the door.

"He doesn't appear to be having any severe heart palpitations, so he should be alright, but I'd keep an eye on him all the same." He gave her an earnest look. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay? I don't mind."

"No, no, I'm okay," she declined quietly, not looking at him but instead at her feet, her arms crossing over her chest. "Sorry you came all this way for nothing."

"Not for nothing," he said sternly, warmly. "It was smart to seek medical help in this situation, especially when you've never dealt with it before. Withdrawal symptoms can have very severe effects."

She was often caught off guard by her father at times like these, when he dropped all his shenanigans and joking about and acted like a regular sophisticated person. Not that she'd necessarily prefer him like this all the time, but it comforted her nonetheless.

"How are you involved with him, anyway?"

She bit her lip, eyes still cast downward as she scuffed the underside of her foot against the floor. "He's just an artist I'm working with."

"And _living_ with?"

She spared him a glance, giving a lazy smile. "It's just temporary."

"So you guys are just friends, then."

"Barely."

"Mmm."

His expression was unreadable, and it bugged her. Never, since the day she could properly think for herself, had she been able to figure out what he was thinking.

There was a long drawn out pause between them, his eyes casting over to the sofa as a groan sounded from it, and then he looked at her, his features finally softening.

"Your sister's invited us all to dinner in a couple weeks."

"Yeah, she called." Yuzu's restaurant had been undergoing renovations, and was due for completion in the next few days. Any reason to celebrate, and Yuzu was on it. "Says she has a 'surprise'."

Isshin chuckled. "Ichigo's convinced himself that she's gone and gotten herself pregnant or engaged. Been trying to pry it out of her over the phone all week." He shook his head, running a hand through his hair tiredly. He grinned at her, pretending not to notice the lack of hers, how the quirk in her lips didn't resonate in her eyes. "I'm sure it'll be interesting, though, whatever it is. We'll stop by to pick you up."

She merely nodded, stepping forward to hold the door open as he made to leave. "Um… speaking of Ichigo, can you not tell him about this? I really don't need him going all big brother on me."

Isshin smirked. "He won't hear it from me."

"Thanks, Dad."

He leaned in then, planting a swift kiss on the top of her head before finally stepping out into the hallway, flashing her one last look that gave her a strange feeling of deja vu. "Take care, kiddo."

She locked the door promptly, resting her forehead against it and listening to the sound of her father's footsteps thumping down the hallway, a feeling of unease creeping back into her chest as she heard the elevators ding, sounding his departure.

Toushiro appeared to have passed out again by the time she returned to her spot beside the couch, his breath raspy but somewhat even. Leaning her weight against the side of the sofa, she brushed the back of her fingers along his cheek, following the slope of his cheekbone up past his temple and into his messy mop of hair, of which was tangled and damp with sweat. Her fingers combed through it lazily, distractedly, her head resting on her arm while she studied him with her eyes. There was a ripe pang in her chest as she did so, and she felt her throat grow thick.

She must have sat there for hours, not even realizing she'd been drifting off to sleep until she was already waking up again, a light tapping on her shoulder and the murmur of her name startling her awake. He was looking at her pointedly, his eyes lidded and weary, and it felt as though he'd just woken up from a coma, his body stiff and motionless.

"Hey…" she whispered hoarsely, lifting her head up straight, her arm horribly cramped as she let it fall to her side. "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit." His voice was cracked and dry, and he audibly swallowed, wincing from the sear of pain that it caused in his throat.

"You look it." He scowled at her, and she smirked. She got to her feet with no lack of struggle, shaking out the kinks in her limbs as she made her way to the kitchen, speaking to him over the sound of running tap water. "You scared me there, y'know."

His body arched up painfully as he heaved himself upright, leaning back against the arm of the sofa and immediately feeling the joints in his back and shoulders slowly loosen and crack. Karin returned shortly, sitting on the edge of the couch cushion and handing him a glass of water. She watched as he drained it in one take, her lips pursed in a manner of waiting, words hanging on the tip of her tongue.

"Think it might be time for you to rehabilitate?"

He gave her a dense look, and despite having not yet come to his senses in full, she knew he replied with conviction. "And what, go through this shit everyday for god knows how long?"

She frowned at him. "So you just plan on being an addict for the rest of your life? It's going to kill you, you do realize that."

He looked away from her, as stubborn as a child. "I'm not an add–'

"And don't even try to say that you're not, because you _are_ and you fucking know it."

His jaw tightened then, sharpening his features with disdain, and Toushiro cast his gaze to where he'd begun picking at a loose decorative button on the sofa cushion. He heard her huff, feeling her heated stare finally leave him as she got up from the couch and made her way towards the kitchen. He glanced at her only then, her body sluggish and contorted as she moved around, making to do the tall pile of dishes in her sink despite it being probably three in the morning. He drew his head back before she could catch him looking, a nauseating flash of heat wafting through his veins as he fixed his eyes on the ceiling and zoned out to the sounds of swishing water and clinking dishes.

He waited until she was done, after she flicked the main light off as though he wasn't even there and began thumping her feet off to her bedroom, before he spoke.

"I'll try." There was a dank glare of light coming through the window, and although he couldn't see her properly he knew that she'd paused, and that she was looking at him. "Just don't have any big expectations of me. It puts me off."

There was a short silence. One beat. Two beats. Three.

"Okay."

...


	6. come along, spread yourself thin

**A/N:** Changes abound! Well, two. 1) Title change: I'd been unhappy with the title Mr. November for a while, probably since like a month after posting it, so I've been racking my brain for months trying to think of something to call it, AND THEN Garbage released a new record, and I listened to it atleast a hundred times over and the song Blackout really resounded, especially the lyrics and how they relate to this fic, and so there's the story of that. Fascinating, yeah? No I know you guys don't care. Anyway, 2) I mashed chapters 1 and 2 together. It's been on my mind, again, for a while, probably not long after publishing, and I got a review a while back suggesting it, and finally I decided it really did make sense and just reads better. SO yeah.

Onwards!

* * *

He hadn't been sleeping well. In fact, if he were to give it a thought, he wouldn't be able to count on both hands how many days it'd been since he last slept. Like, _really_ slept. The one or two accumulated hours he managed to get every night, made up of little twenty minute windows of slumber followed by long hours of tremors, hardly counted as actual sleep in his opinion. It felt more like an unending spiral of blacking out.

He was grateful for the weather, decidedly. The cold, cheek biting air that helped keep him stable, somewhat awake and conscious, was his only assist. He couldn't ignore the fact that it felt like a hangover, though. Like a really bad constant hangover with its out of body wakefulness and numb ache, and while he sat there on the fire escape, a lit cigarette hanging from chapped blue lips while he let the brisk morning air weave in through his sweater and freeze out his shaking nerves, he still wished for nothing more than the sweet relief of literally anything but nicotine.

Sobering up was a joke.

"You waiting for spring out here?" He blinked, her voice searing through the frozen quiet, sucking in a quick smoky breath as he regarded her. She'd opened the window without him even noticing, both hands holding up the frame while she bent at the hip to look at him. Karin nodded over her shoulder succinctly. "C'mon, I made pancakes."

He masked a grimace by breathing out, turning his head to the side. "I'll be there in a minute," he muttered, taking another drag of his cigarette before stamping it out on the side of his boot and tossing it at the overflowing coffee can of cigarette butts in the corner of the landing.

She disappeared with a shrug, sliding the window shut again, and he exhaled. "Fucking _pancakes."_

Smacking his palms against his cheeks a couple times like it did something for his complexion, Toushiro finally dragged himself off the stairwell and crawled back into the apartment. Karin had long since placed a mat underneath her bedroom window, having gotten sick of him trampling his wet dirty boots all over her floor every time he came in from a smoke, and he lingered on it for a hesitant breath, tracing the patterned lines with his eyes. It made him feel domesticated, almost as much as the routine happenstance of him being up in time to see her leave for work and her making him breakfast beforehand did. He had yet to decide how he felt about it.

The whole place was dark except for the bleak glare of light in the kitchen, making the blue-ish gleam that coated her face all the more clear as she played with her phone, head tilted down while she ate her breakfast. Drinking milk from a straw and attention fixed solely on her cellphone screen, she barely acknowledged him as he slipped onto the stool directly across the counter from her. A plate was already filled and waiting for him.

"You didn't burn them this time," Toushiro assessed with a clear tone of surprise, inspecting his golden brown short stack from all possible angles.

Karin raised her head, beaming with pride. "I know, right?" she exclaimed triumphantly, her grin going crooked and cute. "' _Practice makes perfect',_ so they say."

"Right." He nodded sagely, reaching for the bottle of chocolate syrup on the counter. "I mean, it only took you like a week straight of stuffing sad, burnt excuses for pancakes down my throat, but you finally got it."

Her face fell, nostrils flaring as she inhaled sharply. "Shut up," she spat. "At least I feed you."

"If that's what you're calling it." He drizzled a zigzagged mess of syrup over his pancakes, easily ignoring her glower as he pulled them apart with his fork. If someone were to ask, he wouldn't deny that he made her mad on purpose for the sake of his own comfort. "Y'know, I almost want to say how sick I am of pancakes now, but I'm fearful of what you'll 'practice' cooking next."

She stared at him, lips curling up in a snarl as she swallowed her last bite of food. "Why are you like this?" she asked bluntly, as if genuinely dumbfounded. "I mean, like, honestly? How have you not been murdered yet."

He just looked at her, the picture of innocence with his cheeks puffed and bloated from the ghastly amount of food he'd stuffed in his mouth, and she found herself undoubtedly struggling to keep her glower potent and intact.

"The day you stop living here can't come soon enough," she said acidically.

His brow wrinkled as he swallowed, a deep frown surfacing on his face. "That's just mean."

Karin scoffed. "As if you have the capacity within your narcissistic self to actually be offended."

"You best watch it, Karin," he warned, fork in hand as he pointed at her. "If you scar me emotionally I'm obligated to write a song about you."

She rolled her eyes, ignoring him in favour of rinsing leftover syrup and crumbs from her plate.

"Maybe a whole album," Toushiro suggested airily, plate in hand as he slipped off his chair and rounded the counter to join her at the sink. "Perhaps I'll call it 'Pancake Poison', yeah? A fitting soundtrack to the struggles I faced while living with a girl who couldn't cook but desperately pretended she could."

"How flattering," she jeered, craning her neck to cut him a shit-eating grin. "I'm sure the foodie community will appreciate the contribution."

He smirked, unwittingly puncturing her personal space as he leaned against the counter. She recoiled from his closeness as if on reflex, feeling the blood rise in her cheeks and refusing the chance of him noticing.

Brushing past him swiftly, she grabbed her bag off the end of the counter and headed for the coat closet. "Clean up, would you?" she called over her shoulder. "I've gotta go."

Toushiro felt the air in his lungs seize, his smirk falling fast. "Already?" He promptly spun around, following her to the entryway with a rather jittered step. "But it's so early. You don't usually leave for another half hour."

Karin raised a brow at him, yanking her coat from its hanger. "You keeping tabs now?" she teased.

He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. "I notice things."

"Uh huh…" She nodded slowly, mockingly, tugging out the cuffs of her sweater from inside her coat sleeves. "Right, well, my lovely bitch of a boss was kind enough to text me at four o'clock this morning to let me know she's sleeping in at her lover's place and needs me to go feed her cat, so..."

He grimaced. "That's… excessive."

Karin groaned. "That fucking cat hates me. Nearly gouged out my eyeball last time."

"Don't worry, I'm sure your future dozen or so cats will love you." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Have you ever tried just saying 'no'?"

The look she gave him made him wish he hadn't asked. "And what, become like her _last_ assistant?" She scoffed, bending down to lace up her boots. Her movements were sharp and rash. "Victoria has major connections with literally everybody. I'd really rather not be blacklisted from my field of work so I can salvage some petty ounce of pride."

"C'mon, Karin," he pressed with a sincerity that had her blood boiling. "She treats you like a dog."

She huffed, piercing him with a hard disdainful look as she straightened up again. "Thanks for the assessment," she spat, not about to applaud him for sounding like her brother. " _Obviously_ I didn't know."

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "Here we go."

"You do realize the only reason I'm still working for her is because of you, right? Because I need _you_ to prove my worth to Hirako and actually get the job I want. But it seems you're too busy wallowing in self pity or whatever the fuck it is that you do instead of actually working to care about that."

"Have you ever written a song before? Or even so much as a line of music?" he asked sharply, taking an offensive step towards her. "I'm guessing not, so let me just tell you it's not that fucking easy, okay? It takes time."

"It's been almost _two months_!"

"I'm _trying-'_

"Well try harder!" Her voice was strained and cracked, and she huffed, swallowing thickly. She tore her eyes from his, feeling heated and embarrassed. "I'm gonna be late," she muttered, picking her bag up off the floor and turning towards the door. "If that stupid cat dies of starvation I'll be out of a job for sure."

Toushiro held his tongue, boring a heated stare into her back as she made to leave. A twinge of panic spurred in his stomach once the door closed after her, festering within the bout of guilt he suddenly felt, and his shoulders sagged defeatedly.

Despite the near constant arguing, he'd quickly begun to hate it when she left.

* * *

"So how's the babysitting going?" Shinji questioned dryly, his eyes wandering disinterestedly over the chalkboard menu on the wall while they waited for their coffees. He faced a possible disowning for actually liking the stuffy coffee shop on the corner, and even more so for dragging her there on her lunch break. She'd made sure to get the most expensive coffee they had and made him pay for it.

Karin promptly scowled at the screen of her phone, her thumb unpausing in its scroll. "I'd sometimes prefer an actual child," she grumbled irately, sparing only a brief and blatantly fake smile for the barista as she received her coffee.

Shinji chuckled, steering her towards a small round table against the wall. She grimaced.

"Not quite the sitcom life you thought it would be, then?" he teased.

"Oh fuck you."

He gave her a wry smile, blending far too comfortably with the shop as he settled in his chair. She sat stiffly in hers to make a point.

"You have to admit at least a small bit of naivety," he drawled in that old wise person way of his, patronizing and dickish. He was only three years older than her. "How long's he been living with you now, two months? Has he made _any_ progress?"

She sipped on her coffee for a moment, eyes set elsewhere and evasive.

"He's coming around, I think," she replied carefully. "He just has some things to get over."

Shinji's face lined up a skeptical frown, and she gave him an annoyed look.

"Why are you being so shady towards him all the sudden? You're the one that put me onto him in the first place."

"Well, yeah, 'cause I thought he could benefit us somehow. Yet all he seems to be doing is using you for a place to crash and mooching off your good nature." He exhaled tiredly, smoothing a hand over his obnoxiously patterned tie. "Maybe I got too excited."

Karin bit the inside of her cheek, picking at the cardboard cozy around her cup with her thumbnail. She hated that she was actually bothering to defend him. "Maybe… But I'm still trying to hold together some hope. It'd help if you did the same."

A crash of breaking glass sounded from the bar, and Karin was the only one to look over, her lips glued to the rim of her cup as she gulped down her coffee and watched the barista flit around frantically to clean up her mess.

It was a sad sort of amusement.

"Is that why you met with Kuchiki Rukia?"

The question was fast to hit her, making her sputter and choke on her coffee. She strained not to cough too loudly. "H-How'd you know about that?"

"You can't honestly think you could use me as a professional reference and I wouldn't hear about it."

He looked too amused as he watched her hack and falter, and she glared at him.

"It's really creepy how you always know everything."

"So I've been told," he said candidly, shrugging. He took a quick sip of his coffee then, shifting in his seat. A brow raised at her pointedly. "Did you get what you wanted, talking to her?"

Karin fiddled with her sleeves. "Somewhat…" She shrugged, looking down tentatively. "She kind of pieced some things together for me, which helped a bit, I guess."

"Hm? Like what?"

She hesitated. "It's not really my business to share."

She'd expected him to pry, look annoyed, be everything he usually was when she held out on him, but instead he just smirked, amused as he clucked his tongue. " _Aw_. You've gone all loyal."

"I have not," Karin snapped, a scowl twisting her face. "I've just got the decency not to gossip about other people's shit."

Shinji chuckled, raising his hands in a mock gesture. "Relax, Karin. It's okay to have feelings."

She glared down at her hands, fixing the cuffs of her coat sleeves over her arm warmers. The lingering taste of coffee was bitter at her throat as she swallowed, stubborn and dry.

Maybe it was okay to have feelings, but not like this.

Not for him.

* * *

He'd found solace in her bedroom.

He'd bumbled around the apartment for a while after she left, paced circles around the living room, watched the sun rise from the window, actually did the dishes. He made it almost two whole hours before his skin began to itch, a distinct sickness slithering around in his stomach and threatening disorder. It's what led him here, sitting on a sofa cushion on the floor at the foot of her bed, guitar on his lap and notebook at his side, his attention long since fixed on the television.

The comfort was synthetic, only granted to him by the distracting stream of sitcoms and talk shows reflected in the dullness of his eyes, blaring their white noise at above thirty volume and drowning out the silence. He was still as a statue.

He sat there until nearly four o'clock, when the late afternoon sun glared in on him and forced him to acknowledge the time and, subsequently, the fact that he'd done absolutely nothing of value all day, yet again. A pang of guilt resurfaced in his chest, and he blinked away from the T.V..

"Dammit…" he breathed out densely, slumping back further against the bed frame and pinching the bridge of his nose. A blank white page glared at him from his notebook, catching his aimless gaze, mocking him. He chucked it at the wall.

Straightening up once again, Toushiro finally flicked off the television and resituated his guitar in his lap, narrowing his eyes as he began to tune it for what had to be the tenth time that day. It was a desperate effort, to try and clear his mind, to ignore the relentless cravings bubbling just beneath the surface. They vibrated throughout his body, from his toes up to his split ends and all the way down to his fingertips. They plucked the strings indelicately, striking them with urgency.

He couldn't concentrate, not even on this simple mindless task. He couldn't even breathe properly. It was too quiet again, the thrum of his guitar strings only a dull buzz in his ears, and he felt warm. _Too warm._ As though acid had been injected into his bloodstream, burning along in his veins, and he winced.

A self-deprecating curse fell from his lips in a heavy sigh, and he placed his guitar on the floor beside him, pulling his knees to his chest. His hands ran through his hair, shaking through now dampened white locks, and he could feel every vein and tendon in his body twitch, making him curl into himself, resting his head on his knees. He wanted to turn the T.V. back on, his mind begging for escape while his mouth suddenly watered for a cigarette, but his limbs refused to work. His fingernails had taken to searing themselves into the back of his neck, not about to abandon their post, and so he shut his eyes, squeezing them closed and tight, and focused on breathing.

"I'm so fucking pathetic," he muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth. He thought of Karin, how exhausted she always looked, how sad, still somehow holding out for him to pull himself together and not let her down. He felt weighed down with responsibility, a pile of too many promises teetering on his shoulders, and he almost regretted getting involved in the first place.

They were just set up for failure.

* * *

Karin hated hospitals with a burning passion.

Having sustained several sports-related injuries throughout her childhood and adolescence, she'd learned this fact fairly early on. They were simply too bright for her liking, the air so stale and dry that it gave her a migraine. She felt like she was in an asylum.

She currently sat in one of the doctor's offices, her brother's office to be exact, slouched uncomfortably against the arm of the sofa with her head resting in her hand, her forehead pounding. The fluorescents beamed overhead, illuminating every inch of the room, and she regretted leaving them turned on. The lamp beside the book shelf would've sufficed just fine.

She could tell quite easily how much time her brother actually spent in this room by the lack of personality and coziness, and especially by how stiff and new the black leather couch felt against her body. It made her feel kind of bad.

The door of the office opened a good twenty minutes after she arrived, a spiky mess of orange hair throwing off the colour scheme, and her eyes fluttered open. She'd actually dozed off.

"Oh my _God,"_ Ichigo moaned dramatically, the door shuddering to a close behind him as he practically lunged for the brown paper bag sitting on the coffee table. "You're a _lifesaver,_ sis," he grovelled, mouth visibly watering. "I thought I was gonna pass out during surgery."

The cushion beside her squeaked and deflated as her brother flopped down on it tiredly, the distinct smell of greasy cheeseburgers and fries tickling her nose as he all but tore open the bag.

"I guess I should've gotten you something healthier," she said absently, frowning as she watched him unwrap one of the cheeseburgers. "That's probably all cold and gross now."

"No no no, this is good." Half the burger was already in his mouth, making his voice muffled. He ate like a cartoon character. "I've had nothing but coffee and cheap vending machine peanuts for the past eighteen hours. Even dad's home-cooking would taste good right now."

She crinkled her nose. "Ew."

He laughed. "Okay, maybe not. But you get my point."

Karin sighed delicately. "I miss Yuzu's cooking."

"You're telling me," Ichigo muttered in agreement, unwrapping the other burger before he even finished swallowing down the first one. "I'm literally dying in anticipation for supper this weekend. Even if she's not making our food with her own hands it'll taste a hell of a lot better than anything I've made for myself over the last decade."

Karin twitched unconsciously. Oh yes, _the supper._

"You're coming, right?"

She cleared her throat. "Yeah, yeah, of course I am. Yuzu would literally kill me if I didn't."

He nodded, his mouth twisting into a thoughtful pucker while he chewed. Karin searched for something to pick at.

"I don't like the thought of this 'little surprise' she's got for us," he finally said. "Has she told you?" She merely shook her head, and he grunted, taking a forceful bite of his burger. "I don't like surprises," he grumbled. "Especially not from Yuzu. She's usually so straightforward with everything."

Karin strained not to glare at him. He was such a pest sometimes. "I'm sure it's nothing crazy," she told him, oozing with conviction. Their sister had never been one for keeping secrets, that much was true, and so she doubted it was anything too big. It was mostly due to the fact that Yuzu just simply _couldn't,_ the burden of knowing privileged information literally making her sweat and sputter in anticipation. Karin had kept the recent change in her living situation to herself in acute regard of this fact.

"You're probably right…" Ichigo sulked all the same, a deep scowl marring his features. He softened only slightly when he looked at her. "I'm glad you're coming. We missed you last time."

Her smile felt vacant on her lips, partially forced. The last family dinner had been in January, one of which she'd pretended to be sick to get out of so that she didn't have to leave her bed. She'd felt guilty about it a few days later.

"Yeah, well, no worries this time. I'll be there even on my deathbed." She puffed up her smile further, letting her eyes close briefly with it. As her face fell and softened once again, she was only too aware of the look he was giving her.

"You look tired," he assessed, his tone just a tad calculated. His food was gone now, his attention readily settled on her. "Have you been doing okay, lately? We haven't really gotten the chance to check in."

"I'm fine," she said in flat. A migraine pulsed harshly behind her skull, hardening her features, and she focused on the scab on her wrist, smoothing her index finger over a small but nasty burn she'd received from the skillet just days before while she was making pancakes and Toushiro startled her senseless by jumping up on the counter. She remembered how wide his eyes had gone, practically falling off the counter on his quest for cream and bandages, curses falling from his lips. "Same as always," she added with a shrug.

His concern didn't subside, growing palpably with the deepening of his frown, and she'd expected this. It had become a thing of hers, the phrase 'same as always' like a mantra, for she'd never dare to tell him the actuality of how she felt, instead leaving it up to the interpretation of which he'd do anyway.

Let him believe what he may, she thought. It wasn't spiteful; it was simply easier.

"Your office is super lame, by the way," Karin said loftily, hoping for a seamless change in subject. Like she'd even begin to comment on the bags under his eyes, the messy flock of hair he housed, the coffee stain on his button-up. It was best to leave certain things unrealized. "Smells like a doctor's office."

"It is a doctor's office."

"That's no excuse."

Ichigo scoffed lightly, leaning back into the sofa as he gave his office a once over, as though for the first time. His brow furrowed not three seconds later. "Shit. It is lame, isn't it?"

"Painfully so," Karin drawled. "This whole building gives me a headache."

"There's Aspirin in the desk drawer."

"Nah, I should just go home."

"But you just got here," he whined, straightening up once again in preparation of protest. She almost informed him she'd been there for over a half hour now.

"I'm _tired,_ Ichi-nii." She sighed exasperatedly. Did no one understand the concept? "And anyway, shouldn't you be prepping for surgery or something? Maybe tending to the back-up of people I passed in the waiting room?"

"They can wait."

"Ichigo!" She whacked his arm.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." He held up both hands, his smile gone crooked. "I've got at least ten minutes before they page me again. C'mon, Karin, I _never_ see you."

"That's not true. You see me all the time."

"Bullshit I do," he snapped. "I started actually marking my calendar to keep track of when I see you, and the last time was over a _month_ ago _._ And that was only because I ran into you and your creepy co-worker at some coffee shop."

"I've been busy," she grumbled, face scrunching in annoyance. At this, Ichigo huffed.

"Yeah, well, I'm busy too, but at least I make an effort."

His words pinched their truth into her skin, bright pink dots blotching where her nails dug into her wrist, and she turned her head further to the side. At least Yuzu never made a fuss.

Not to her face, anyway.

In her silence Ichigo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry." He felt uncomfortable now, maybe even a bit guilty. It came off him in thick waves. "I just worry about you, is all."

"I know." She strained against the lump in her throat to keep her voice even, eyes cast downward. Victoria's cat had scratched her that morning, an even three red lines cut across the top of her hand, and she picked at them thoughtlessly with her nail.

"I like to know how you guys are doing." Now he was on with the plurals, as if Yuzu didn't call him at least every other week. "You do seem a bit better than the last time I saw you."

"Last time you saw me I was with Shinji, and that dude is a pain in the ass. I probably had full bitch face on."

Ichigo grinned, hanging his head as he laughed. Karin let herself smile with ease. "He did give off that vibe," he recounted aloud, nodding sagely. "You guys seemed close enough, though. Good friends?"

Karin shrugged, parting her lips to respond. Shinji was more of a top tier acquaintance than a friend, in her stubborn opinion.

A sudden and shrill rip of a pager caught her before she could speak, making her wince on reflex before she was able to notice her brother drawing his own pager from his pocket, his face morphing into his usual scowl. She relaxed again.

Ichigo grunted, stuffing the pager back into his coat pocket. "Duty calls," he muttered with intended lameness, heaving himself off the couch and teetering just a bit on his feet. She had to wonder when the last time was he'd actually rested. "Here," he started with a fumble to his back pocket, drawing out his wallet and opening it with purpose. He drew out multiple bills and passed them to her. "Take a cab home, yeah? It's late."

Her face scrunched of its own accord, and she almost protested. The earnest look in his eyes had her swallowing her words. "Sure," she relented with a slight smile, taking the money from him. It was three times how much a cab would cost. "Thanks."

He inclined his head, hands in his coat pockets as he backed away in the direction of the door. She wasn't the hugging type, and he knew that. "See you on Saturday."

Karin raised her hand in a wave, flicking her wrist lazily. "See you then."

He left the room without another pause, the flash of a smile and the door clicking shut after him, and Karin heaved a sigh, stuffing the money into her coat pocket as she stood up.

Maybe if he'd stop looking at her like she was some wounded puppy, she'd come around more.

* * *

The window slid open with a squeak, a vision of long black hair and questioning eyes peeking out. Building lights and streetlamps illuminated them in an ugly yellow flush. "Toushiro?"

He sucked in a bout of smoke at her voice, letting it set and burn at the back of his throat. He exhaled carefully, staring off to the side. "Yeah?"

"Aren't you cold?" She looked him over, regarding the thin sweater he'd pulled over his t-shirt as rather scarce.

He blinked at her. Was he? "Uh…"

She shot him a steely look, drawing back and out of sight, the window now held up by a stick of wood. She returned a moment later with a bundle of blankets under one arm, stepping out onto the fire escape with untied boots to join him. She draped a dark blue fleece around his shoulders before wrapping herself in her quilt and sitting down. He huddled into the blanket with a newfound chill.

"You're late," he commented dryly, shooting her a glance as he took another drag.

"Oh, yeah. I made a stop on the way." She met his eyes, a tired smirk painting her face. "Maybe I hoped you'd be too busy with work to notice."

"You really are a dreamer, aren't you?" He flicked the excess ash from his cigarette away, tapping it against the rail. "Didn't I say not to have any expectations of me?"

"Did you at least get a little done? Something?"

"If anything my guitar is perfectly tuned and ready to collect dust."

She frowned, wholly disappointed in him. It burned heavily through his front of composure. "Are you even trying?"

" _Yes,"_ he ground out, cutting her a sharp look. "Don't go thinking I enjoy this situation. Living on your couch, eating your ruddy food, being _sober._ Believe me, I'm trying."

Karin pursed her lips, looking away from him, feeling partially insulted. She rather preferred his crassness, however; it endowed her with a necessary perspective. "Good, then," she said flatly, huddling into her blanket. "I guess there's always tomorrow..."

"Until there isn't."

Karin grunted. "Can you try to be optimistic for once, like ever?"

"Opti-what?" She elbowed him in the side, and he was sure it hurt more than she intended. Almost sure. "I'll be optimistic when something's worthy of the effort," he grumbled, massaging his ribs through his shirt.

She huffed. "You're such a pain."

"You've made that clear," he told her, voice husky from the smoke burning down his throat. Karin bit her lip, resisting the urge to pick at her wounds, clenching fistfuls of fabric in strained fingers. Toushiro went on, relishing one last drag before flicking his cigarette into the coffee can by his feet, blowing a stream of smoke towards the street as he stood. "I'll be out of your hair soon enough," he promised tonelessly, giving her hair a ruffle and a smirk before crouching down and in through the window.

Karin frowned after him, lingering where she was, still and beginning to freeze. Minutes passed in a thoughtless void, and soon enough the light strum of guitar chords were heard, drifting around her apartment and filtering through the quiet night. She stayed put, still, self-implicated worries flitting around her mind in a sudden flurry and leaving her stubborn.

Even in separate rooms and relatively separate lives, she felt too close.

.

* * *

 **A/N:** the song 'Having You Around' by July Talk is the official track of this chap, I recommend a listen ^^

 **ALSO** what the fuck was Bleach's ending? Has anyone read it? Don't. It's awful. Not just the ships, but everything. EVERYTHING IS WRONG. I'm pretending it doesn't exist. Never fucking happened. Bye.


	7. subtract me from your heart

Karin wasn't sure how long the knocking on her front door had been going on before she heard it over the blare of her blow dryer, but she reckoned it had to have been a rather notable amount of time considering Toushiro had actually gotten off his ass for once that day and was answering the door before she could even make it past the kitchen.

Her heart thrummed anxiously against her chest as she practically sprinted to his side, trying her best to act casual and not at all displeased to see her brother standing in the doorway alongside her father.

"Ichigo, Dad! Hey!" Her voice was too hitched, her expression too strained. She could see her grimace reflected in their stares. "I could've met you guys downstairs."

Ichigo just glared at her, pointing a long distrustful finger to the man at her side, who frankly at that moment looked like a homeless person. "Who the hell is this?"

The way in which Toushiro's face twisted gave her brother a run for his money, features contorting dark and harsh. Karin stammered.

"Sorry, Karin dear," Isshin said airily, abandoning his son on the front lines of his self-imposed stand-off as he furthered himself into the apartment. "I tried to make him wait in the car, but you know how he is. Like a child he listens to no one."

Her father proceeded to catch her in an unsanctioned but well expected bear-hug, coddling her like some five year-old child experiencing trauma for the first time. Karin merely grunted, crinkling her nose as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Clearly you didn't try hard enough," she muttered grumpily. "I'm sure the child locks would've sufficed."

"Hey, I came up to check that everything was up to par," Ichigo snapped, spewing absolute bullshit. Karin rolled her eyes. "And considering this _zombie_ that's answering the door–'

"He's just an artist I'm working with, Ichigo. Calm your shit."

She ignored the dumbstruck twist of impending argument in her brother's face in favour of shrugging her father off, stepping closer to Toushiro as she nudged the bearded man towards the kitchen with her elbow. He made a show of pouting, sulking dramatically as he thumped around the corner and disappeared.

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that some punky-ass musician hanging around your apartment in his pajamas is really just for work and completely innocent?" Ichigo scoffed. "As-fucking-if, Karin. I'm not stupid."

Karin heaved an exasperated sigh, lolling her head back on her shoulders. It was truly amazing how a person as intelligent as her brother could be so utterly moronic.

"Since when is working with artists part of your job, anyway?"

"Since recently," she snapped. "If you pulled your head out of your ass once in awhile I might actually bother telling you things. Like, for instance, the promotion I have waiting for me if I can get a _certain someone_ back on track with music and ready to record again."

Following the direction of her head tilt, Ichigo cast the white-haired man a calculating look. "Huh…" His scowl softened to a more reasonable degree, and he rubbed the back of his neck, the focus of his eyes shifting almost timidly. "Well, that's cool then, I guess."

Karin nodded in agreement, eliciting a triumphant huff and nearly allowing herself to relax.

"But, like, does he have to be someone who looks like they just rose from the dead?"

The dark-haired girl just sagged, slapping a hand to her forehead and sliding it down her face exhaustively, bracing herself for Toushiro had visibly bristled beside her, the grip on the neck of his guitar tightening audibly as he squared his shoulders.

"At least my hair isn't fucking _orange._ "

Ichigo cut him a look. "The hell's that supposed to mean?" he asked heatedly, as

though he were a teenager again. As if no one had ever passed judgement on his hair colour before. "Your hair's freakier than mine! Who the hell dyes their hair _white_ of all things?!"

"It's natural, you twit."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"My _God._ Okay, this is over." Stepping between them with her arms raised, Karin pressed a hand to Toushiro's chest and pushed him back towards the living room. "You, back to work, now."

His jaw clenched as he swallowed pending words, his face fixing a silent sneer as he spun around and made to return to the sofa. Karin simply exhaled.

"Actually, I was going to suggest that Toushiro join us."

Isshin had re-emerged from the kitchen, effectively blocking Toushiro's path as he rifled through a bag of stale potato chips, an air of utmost indifference about him.

Karin and Ichigo glared at their father incredulously. " _What?_ "

Toushiro was especially put off by the invitation, staring uncertainly at Isshin as though he'd just been asked to sell his soul. The bearded man merely smirked at him, unfazed.

"Err… Thanks, Kurosaki-san, but I'm okay here. Honestly." The last word was practically a plea, and it appeared obvious to everyone but Isshin that he wished nothing more than to stay where he was.

"Nonsense," Isshin waved off. "I insist."

He proceeded to stare Toushiro down, as if daring him to try and say no, and the younger man's mouth opened and closed at least three times over before a resigned grunt sounded deep in his throat, his frame slumping in defeat.

"Okay, sure. Whatever."

Toushiro went on sluggishly, putting his guitar down beside the sofa with the utmost reluctance and gathering a bundle of semi clean clothes from his duffelbag, while Karin remained rooted where she stood, her foot tapping impatiently against the floor as she waited for him to disappear into the bathroom.

Once she heard the door click shut, she set a quick glower on her father.

"Dad, what the hell?"

Isshin calmly nibbled on a chip, the quirk to his lips intact and unwavering. "I just

wanna get to know him better," he vouched innocently.

" _Why?_ " Karin whined. "It's not like we're dating."

"I damn well hope not," Ichigo muttered, still sulking in the doorway. He glanced away at the look his father shot him.

"Maybe not, but he still happens to be living with you, and that makes him a rather influential part of your life." Her father had turned stern, and she pouted. "Now finish getting ready. We're going to be late."

* * *

The drive to Ikebukuro was fairly short, in reality, but for Toushiro it had felt like hours. Several long, suffocating hours. Even the spacious SUV they drove in felt cramped and stiff, his entire perception gone crossed within the tension.

Once they were finally parked across the street from their destination, Toushiro all but jumped out of the vehicle, inhaling sharply and relishing the fresh brisk air as if newly resurrected. He shot the eldest Kurosaki child an accusatory glare as he exited the car after him and rounded the front, being of utmost blame for his discomfort since perpetually glaring at him from the front passenger seat. Ichigo returned the favour with an inherent intensity, cutting a long side-eye as he set off after his father with his hands shoved aggressively into his coat pockets, and he made blatantly sure to exploit their height difference, towering overhead as he passed.

Karin was the last to leave the car, taking her time, no doubt reapplying the lipstick she'd chewed into barely a stain on the way there. She shot Toushiro a troubled look, passing him by with somber eyes and hunched shoulders, approaching the restaurant like she would her execution. She hadn't said a word the entire car ride, staring endlessly out the window, twirling the ends of her scarf around restless fingers. He wouldn't even begin to pretend he hadn't noticed.

He hung back a few paces as the four of them crossed the street, lighting up quickly and taking a long fortifying drag of nicotine, letting it settle in his throat and burn his lungs before he exhaled, reluctantly putting out the embers on the inside of his coat sleeve and stuffing the cigarette back in his pocket for later. He caught just the flash of a look as Karin held the door open for him.

The restaurant was cozy and elaborate, with nice red walls and dim lighting, courtesy of several colourful lanterns hanging from the ceiling above the tables, small cupped lights lining the paths in-between. The place was nearly packed and very warm, increasing the daylong nausea Toushiro had been fighting a tenfold. A dozen different aromas attacked his senses as they trudged through the restaurant, immediately urging him to gag, his stomach curling into itself. He tried not to trip over his palpable uneasiness.

Isshin had lead them purposely along, eventually coming upon a large semi-circular booth in the far back corner. A short and skinny girl with big eyes and honey-blonde hair waved to them from the table, grinning ear to ear as she slid out and onto her feet, coaxing them over.

"I'm guessing that's your sister?" Toushiro presumed quietly, leaning forward so Karin could hear.

"What tipped you off?" she murmured back.

"The twin angle certainly didn't," he muttered. "Though I suppose I could've just waited 'til she insulted my entire person to make an educated guess."

"Yuzu would _never,_ " Karin vouched, airy with theatrics. "Not to your face, anyway."

"Oh wow, thanks."

She cast him an animated grin, swatting at his hair teasingly, knowing full well how hard he worked to make it look even partially presentable. He scrunched up his face then, tousling her hair haphazardly in return until she pinched his arm, even through three layers of clothing causing him to wince.

"Oww," he whined, rubbing his arm. Karin had already disregarded him, combing a quick hand through her hair and happily wearing it's mess as she went on to greet her sister. Joyous hugging ensued, and he held back pointedly, wanting to feel as unawkward as possible while he intruded on their family dinner.

"You look so pretty, Karin!" Yuzu gushed, pulling back from their hug to inspect her sister properly.

Karin's shoulders rose in a shrug, a lazy smirk fixing her face. "I dressed up just for you, Yuzu," she said with a slight drawl. "This news of yours better be worth it."

Yuzu perked up then, brightening as her lips parted to respond.

"Please tell me you're not pregnant," Ichigo downright begged, cutting her off before she could even begin. Karin promptly elbowed him in the side. "What? It's a genuine concern!"

Karin made a face. "You're a pest, you know that?"

Ichigo cut her an immediate sneer, still on edge from earlier. "Hey Yuzu," he began loftily, hazel eyes piercing his dark-haired sister with spiteful intent. "Have you by chance met Karin's new boyfriend? I know _I_ just did, and lemme tell you, he is _quite_ the catch."

"' _Boyfriend'?_ " Yuzu repeated dubiously, her attention snapping back to her sister, eyes wide under wrinkled brows. Karin outright fumed.

"He is _not_ my boyfriend!" she ground out, whacking her brother on the back of the head.

A teasing smirk played his lips, completely unfazed. "Oh, I'm sorry, is 'pet zombie' more accurate?"

"Stop calling him that!"

Karin's fists clenched at her sides, her shoulders squared defensively as she glowered at her brother, neck craned to look him straight in the eye. Within the commotion, Toushiro had considered slipping out, sure he'd have a solid ten minutes before anyone noticed his absence. However, before he could even register the thought in his mind he caught Isshin's beckoning stare, as if the man could read his thoughts, and instead Toushiro found himself drawn forward.

"There you are, Toushiro~" Isshin sing-songed. "I was afraid you'd skipped out on us. Here, meet Yuzu."

Toushiro narrowed his eyes; this man was something else. Barely forcing a smile, he regarded the girl in front of him. "Hey," he accosted flatly, flicking his wrist in a half-assed wave. The blonde blinked owlishly at him, her expression growing tight and unreadable.

"Hey…" she returned. "You're Hitsugaya Toushiro, right?" Her tone was explicitly different from before, dry and perplexed, and in a new state of non comfort, he merely nodded. "Huh… I, uh, didn't know you were coming."

"I invited him, dear," Isshin cut in, chipper as ever. "I hope you don't mind. It just didn't seem right to leave him home alone while we all went out to eat. God knows your sister doesn't keep her pantry stocked properly."

If possible, Yuzu looked even more confused. "Wait, what? Leave him at Karin's place? Why would he be there?"

"Well he lives there, of course."

"Dad!" Karin fumed yet again, cheeks tinging. She slumped guiltily as she faced her sister. "I was gonna tell you, I swear."

"I can leave," Toushiro offered quietly, already turning for the exit.

"Yeah, why don't you?" Ichigo bit out, shooting a look over his sister's head. Karin stomped on his foot. "Ouch! Dammit Karin!"

"No no no," Yuzu rambled, waving her hands in front of herself. "Sorry, that was rude of me. It's just that, um–'

"I'm here! I'm here!"

The group of them froze, simultaneously regarding the tall vision of spiky black hair and lean muscle that suddenly bounded into sight, passing by an annoyingly complacent Isshin and stopping just beside Yuzu. The newcomer took a few seconds to gather his bearings, the expanse of his fitted leather jacket morphing with every breath he heaved, hunched briefly at the waist before he straightened up. His arm draped over Yuzu's shoulders with roaring reveal.

In a unified order of reaction, Isshin simply smirked like he was enjoying a television drama, Ichigo's hard gaze zeroed in on the bold, black '69' that marred the guy's left cheek, and Toushiro stiffened glaringly on the outskirt, leaving Karin to hold her breath. She was meeting Hisagi Shuuhei in the flesh, and under any other

circumstance she'd probably be excited about it.

"Sorry I'm late, babe," Hisagi said breathlessly, planting a kiss atop the honey-blonde's head. He let out a dejected sigh. "My car broke down again."

Yuzu heaved a laugh, slicked with nerves. "No worries," she told him, wringing her hands. "Everyone only just got here, anyway."

Hisagi cast a look around then, flashing what was possibly the sweetest smile Karin had ever seen. It was no question why he'd been pegged by fans as the friendliest member of the band.

" _So,_ " Yuzu started, fumbling as if she'd forgotten a practiced speech. "Um, _family,_ meet Hisagi Shuuhei, my boyfriend."

She took the blunt way in, and there was a short pause following in which Ichigo paled and Toushiro backed further out of view. Isshin was the first to act, breaking the silence as he happily greeted Hisagi, seeming instantly taken with the man. One thing their father was good for at the very least was not making a stereotypical scene when meeting his daughter's suitors. Instead he waited graciously until they fucked up, then it was all hands on deck.

Isshin proceeded to play his son's pacifier, dragging him into introductions with a warning grip of his shoulder. Ichigo was undoubtedly backed up with brash comments and unintended (or fully intended) insults, but of course with the help of his father and the fact that it was Yuzu, he held his tongue. The blatant reality of it had Karin at the cusp of a snarl.

Just nearly, though, as the sudden whisper in her ear gave her a start, pulling her attention away.

"I'll see you at home," came Toushiro's voice in a flat hush, immediately causing Karin's breath to hitch.

" _What?"_ Whipping around, Karin grabbed hold of a retreating Toushiro's elbow, yanking him back. "The hell? You're just _leaving?"_

He gave her a dense look, shadows cast about his sneer. "As if your brother's over-bearing ass isn't bad enough," he snapped icily, proceeding to shrug her off. "I'm not about to sit here and have dinner with _that_ bastard, too, and I'm sure my presence won't be missed. Now let go."

"Why, so you can continue to run away from your problems? Hm, no, I don't think so."

"Dammit Karin," he seethed, keeping his voice an angry whisper. "This is none of your business."

"You're my business!" she snapped, her voice croaking uncomfortably from trying to whisper and shout at the same time. Her dark eyes were like steel, bulging with plea.

"How long are you going to carry this grudge around, huh? I mean, don't you at least want some closure?"

Toushiro went slack, pausing in his attempts to pry her fingers from his arm. The hollow look in his eye put her off.

"Toushiro?"

Sharp blue eyes snapped to, narrowing past Karin's head. Clearly it had come time for Karin to be introduced, for Hisagi had finally noticed his once best friend was in attendance. He came up beside Karin in full, stiff and slightly aghast, and in turn Karin dropped her arm to her side, releasing Toushiro from her hold.

She was surprised he didn't just bolt right then and there, and later would find herself wishing he had.

"What, uh–' Hisagi cleared his throat, eyes darting from Toushiro to Karin and back again, his forehead constricting. "What's going on? What're you doing here?"

Toushiro's nose crinkled, twitching distastefully. Disregarding Hisagi completely, he turned a quick and loaded look on Karin. " _I'm leaving_."

He'd barely had chance to blink, let alone turn away, before Karin latched onto his wrist, holding on tighter than before.

"It's great to finally meet you, Hisagi-san. I'm Karin, Yuzu's sister," she introduced herself sweetly, paying no mind to Toushiro as he struggled and huffed to get away from her, her free hand held out in greeting. Hisagi shook it absentmindedly, casting a wary glance at her captive. "Don't mind him," Karin added indifferently. "He's just being a grump like usual, I'm sure you remember."

"Is talking about people like they're not even there just a family thing?" Toushiro questioned irately, glaring daggers.

Karin shot him a shit-eating grin. "First thing my father taught me."

"Guys, c'mon." Yuzu called after them from the table, having just shuffled her father and Ichigo into the booth. Karin gestured for Hisagi to go first, and he cast Toushiro a lingering look before continuing on, his grin resurfacing as he went to join Yuzu.

Meanwhile, Toushiro had stopped struggling, opting instead to try and glare a hole through Karin's skull as she dragged him along to the table.

"Just know that I hate you forever," he told her, dripping with acid.

"I'm okay with that."

She proceeded to pull him into the booth with her, leaving him on the out by default, and if the night wasn't bad enough already, he found himself sitting directly across from Hisagi.

He felt horrid and spiteful, taking Karin's warning look in stride as he removed his gloves and coat as roughly as his weakened body allowed. Not for a second was he about to let her feel comfortable with forcing him into this.

Conversation rose around the table, kickstarted with Yuzu talking about the renovations that had gone on and pointing out notable differences, then quickly leading into typical catch-up pleasantries. Toushiro could only too well feel his old friend's annoyingly kind gaze settle on him in constant intervals even while he interacted with the rest of the group, and he strained not to let his own gaze stray from where a glint of light on his fork and knife setting had caught his eye, resisting the urge to glare across the table lest he falter. He was entirely too tense, his fingers clenching in his pants' pockets as he slumped in his seat, a jumble of nerves beating along his skin, burning. He found himself fantasizing in great detail the idea of sticking his cutlery in his eyes, maybe striking his arteries with chopsticks, anything at all to escape his current reality, this guy across from him with his melancholy stares and thoughtful resignation behind pursed lips. It was enough to drive him mad.

'Closure' couldn't even be mused.

"So… uh, how've you been, Toushiro?"

In that instant his restraint snapped, flimsy as a twig, a hard glower of regard settling on the sweet tattooed face before him. Gray eyes called upon him in earnest, and it hurt to look at him, but Toushiro persevered.

"Oh, I've just been _swell,_ " he replied in a sardonic drawl. It felt like his heart was choking. "And how have you been, Hisagi? Screwed anyone over lately? Stabbed your best friend in the back, perhaps?"

He saw the force of his words, leaving grief along the aged lines of Hisagi's face, and he'd claim it made him feel better, gave him joy to see his face fall. The booth had quieted significantly by that time, and Karin shifted pointedly beside him, the heel of her boot striking his leg.

"Ouch," he seethed, pain crumpling his face. She didn't even look at him.

"You guys know each other?" Ichigo asked, looking between the two men curiously from his spot beside Karin. Isshin was now uncorking the bottle of wine that had been sitting in the middle of the table, and Toushiro melted with longing.

"We were in a band together, 'few years back." Hisagi supplied. "But we've known each other since we were kids."

"A band, huh? I wonder if I've heard your music…" Ichigo was clearly on the brink of being impressed, folding his arms over the edge of the table as he leaned in. "We're you guys like, legit?"

"You have like three of their albums, Ichi-nii," Karin informed him. "They were the number one band in Japan for three years straight."

Ichigo summoned a dubious look. "Really? Huh. I guess I never really paid attention to that kind of stuff. Tatsuki always gave me CDs, I barely ever looked at the names."

"We've got a couple celebrities in our midst," Isshin chimed in proudly, pouring himself some wine. "Good work, girls."

Hisagi laughed. "I wouldn't say I was a celebrity," he admitted modestly. "Toushiro was the popular one, to be honest. Japan's 'golden boy'. Media couldn't get enough."

At that Ichigo leaned in further, eyeing Toushiro in a way that made him uncomfortable. "Now that I think about it, you do look kind of familiar…" The orange haired man squinted, sending a flash of heat down Toushiro's spine. "Actually, yeah, I think you were in a calendar one of my ex-girlfriends had."

Toushiro's cheeks tinged, colouring with unwanted remembrance. He'd hated those photoshoots, those calendars. Label appointed publicists barely asked for consent before tossing him in front of a camera. "That was a long time ago," he muttered, straightening up so he could further ruin his posture with a hunch.

"Isn't that the truth," Ichigo said offhandedly, taking the bottle of wine from his father and filling his own glass. The rich red liquid glinted at Toushiro in the light, mocking him mercilessly. "Look like you aged ten years."

"While your ridiculous hair colour keeps you young, right?" Toushiro bit back. He ignored the young doctor's scowl in favour of fixing his sweater sleeves over his knuckles, his nerves catching up to him and leaving him jittery. "Now, can we please talk about literally anything else?"

There was an awkward pause, looks exchanged, and Isshin was the first to ramble, the change of subject odd and rather morbid as he began a report of the gunshot victim he treated just a few nights before. The guy died, totally untreatable, the end.

However, this sparked a dialogue between him and Ichigo over work and patients, seeming very akin to a pissing contest, much to the eyerolls of the twins.

"So, how'd you guys meet?" Hisagi asked eventually, zeroing in on Karin and Toushiro. "Been together long?"

Karin had taken a sip of water just seconds prior, and proceeded to sputter. "' _Together'_? No, no no no no no, we're– er, we're not together."

Toushiro made a face, cutting her a side-eye. "Six 'no's', really?"

Karin melted a noticeable bit, her expression impassive as she brought her glass of water to her lips again, drinking as she shrugged her shoulders.

"Er– sorry," Hisagi amended quickly. "I just assumed, since he was here with you–'

"It's fine," Karin said, waving it off. "It's kind of complicated, but we're just working together."

"Really? Working on what?"

"Can someone pass the wine?" Toushiro blurted out, casting a look around the table but not focusing on anyone in particular. To his utmost surprise, it was Ichigo who passed the bottle over, while everyone else just exchanged looks again, judging him. "Thanks," he muttered, dripping with sincerity even as he refused eye contact.

He poured a full eight ounces into his glass, easily ignoring the scrutiny he received from Karin and Hisagi as the new prospect of drinking numbed his nerves. Only at the back of his mind did it annoy him, the pained look that crumpled the man across from him, the disappointed snarl searing into him from the side. Like this really affected them, like they had the right to be bothered.

Isshin prompted Hisagi with questions shortly after, effectively drawing him away, but Karin held steady, her lips a tight line as she glared at him. Toushiro acknowledged her blankly, bringing the rim of his glass to his lips and downing nearly the entire thing in one long take. She grew emphatically tense beside him as he refilled his glass and set the empty bottle at the end of the table, her attention still focused on him even while she flipped through a menu and joined in on conversation.

It wasn't long after that a waitress came around to greet them, doe-eyed and tiny, her hair done up in two high pigtails.

"Get anything you want, guys, on the house," Yuzu told them, drunk with the success of her business. "I'm gonna recommend our feature dish, though. Shuuhei created it himself."

"Don't feel pressured," Hisagi interjected quickly. "It's definitely not the best thing here."

"Nonsense," Yuzu waved off, so very much like her father. "It's incredible."

"Hell, I'll try it," Karin announced with a shrug, slapping her menu shut and handing it to the waitress. The rest of her family followed suit, and she sent a smirk Hisagi's way. The man had gone pink.

"And for you, sir?" the waitress prompted quietly, zeroing in on Toushiro while she fixed the stack of menus in her arms.

Toushiro glanced up at her dazedly, the mere thought of ordering food and actually eating it making him go pale, inwardly gagging. "Nothing for me, thanks. I'm good with this," he said, waving his glass for emphasis. The waitress merely nodded, grabbing his menu off the table. She gave a slight bow before leaving.

"Thanks, Ururu," Yuzu called after her. "You sure you don't want anything to eat, Hitsugaya-san?"

Toushiro merely nodded, refusing to look her way, to meet her doting gaze. It made him feel strange, when she looked at him. She was far too young to act so motherly.

"I'm okay," he muttered quietly.

Hisagi's frown hit him like a tidal wave. "You should really eat something with that, Toushiro."

"And you should really mind your own fucking business, Hisagi."

Karin's heel dug into his leg much harder and more blatantly under the table, and once again Toushiro reeled back in pain.

"You goddamn lunatic," he hissed, straining to keep a hushed voice. "Are you trying to cripple me?"

"No, I have complete confidence you'll do that all on your own."

The two of them glared at each other, their tension not exactly a secret.

"It's a real wonder you guys broke up," Ichigo began of his own incentive, his tone drawl and laced with sarcasm. "I mean, he's just so. damn. _pleasant._ I can't fathom what could've possibly been the issue."

"Well, he wasn't always…"

Hisagi trailed off as quickly as he began once Toushiro sent a look his way, and the fair-haired man felt himself boil over.

"I wasn't always _what,_ Hisagi? C'mon, spit it out."

The answer screamed in his head even as Hisagi kept silent, not looking at him as he stared down at his hands, picking at his crooked fingernails in his lap. Toushiro held his glare for a long hitched breath, blinking away shortly after with a scoff.

"Y'know what, I forgot to order more wine. Someone should really get on that." Flashing a look around, Toushiro pressed his palms to the polished wood tabletop and hoisted himself out of the booth. The swift grab of his coat didn't go unnoticed. "I volunteer myself."

He delayed himself no more than half a second before charging off on a different path than they'd come in, hoping for a stealthy exit.

As his damned fate would have it, though, he barely made it five tables down before he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder, yanking him back.

"The fuck are you doing?" Karin fumed in an angry hiss, flying right into him. It was a wonder their noses didn't touch.

Toushiro made a face. "What?"

"What d'you mean 'what'?" she snapped, blood rising vividly in her cheeks as her anger flared. "Do you even realize how incredibly rude you're being? I know you have this whole thing with Hisagi but I hoped that during a dinner with my family you'd at least try and be civilized. And _drinking?_ What is wrong with you? You're supposed to be sobering up!"

"I'm also supposed to be at home working on my music in peace, yet here we are," he cut out, challenging her glower. "I'm sorry I didn't live up to the expectations I explicitly told you not to have of me, but incase you forgot, I don't want to be here. In fact, the only person who _did_ want me here is your father, and I'm pretty sure he's changed his mind on that, too. It doesn't matter whether I stay or go at this point, so I'm going."

Karin's jaw clenched, and after a minutal staring contest, she huffed, deflating tiredly. "It's just… You were doing so well."

"Is that what you think?" Toushiro let out a laugh, teetering on the verge of a jeer and a sob, humourless as ever. "I am _miserable,_ Karin. I hate every second that I'm awake, I can't go twenty minutes without wanting to throw myself off the bloody fire escape, and because of your stupid fucking sobriety pact I have no way to numb the pain."

"Has it ever occurred to you to actually deal with your problems?"

"What, like you do?" The nosy eye of a stranger pierced them from two tables over, and Karin tensed, gritting her teeth. "Don't think I haven't noticed," Toushiro pressed on. "Hell, I could tell the moment I met you. You're no more stable than I am."

Karin closed her eyes, inhaling sharply. "Shut up."

"You can't fix me, Karin. You can barely fix yourself." His voice had softened a fair degree, and he looked at her as fully as the shadows cast about her allowed, a regard she'd never yet received swallowing her whole. It had her with parted lips and nothing to say. "We should just focus on what matters: the music, and getting me out of your life before I ruin it, too."

"But–' She stepped forward, and as she did he stepped back, shaking his head. He closed his eyes as not to look at her, turning away with only an inward mutter of 'I'm sorry' barely reaching his throat. He felt her eyes bore into him as he all but ran out of the restaurant, the kind of lingering stare he'd felt on him that first night they'd met. The semblance churned in his chest, slithering around in his stomach with its sickness, its bitter truth.

He was right back where he started. No, he never even passed the first checkpoint. The harsh reality of it seared through his veins, urging his temper, and he nearly crashed into a waitress and her tray full of drinks as he charged out of the restaurant. The door shuddered on it's hinges from the force of his hand, cold air nipping his cheeks the moment he stepped outside but not quite doing its trick to calm his nerves.

He came to a reluctant stop at the curb, his entire right leg shaking as he tapped his foot impatiently on the cement sidewalk and waited for the walk light to turn green. Despite his death wish, he didn't want to die so pathetically as a reckless jay-walker.

Toushiro took the time to light the remainder of his last cigarette, and swore he could feel another line knead into his forehead as his lighter failed to produce a flame. He almost pondered how the night could get any worse, but before he had the chance a spiky black head of hair impeded his peripheral, giving him a start.

He shook his head before the guy could even speak.

"Leave me alone, Hisagi."

"C'mon Toushiro," he said, an active practitioner of calmness. "You don't have to leave."

"Yeah, actually, I do," Toushiro bit out, cutting him a snarl. "I refuse to sit there while you play nice and pretend everything's okay."

"That's not what I'm doing."

He gritted his teeth, a horrid bitterness crawling along his tongue as he chewed down on his cigarette by mistake. A few more tries at the switch and he was about ready to toss the lighter into the street.

"Here." Hisagi held out his own lighter then, stepping forward far too quickly. Toushiro outright recoiled.

"Don't," he breathed.

"Dammit, Toushiro. Will you just be reasonable for like, a minute?"

"Fuck you," he spat, ripping his cigarette from his lips and stuffing it back into his coat pocket. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flicker of change, and he immediately whipped back around to the crosswalk, revelling in the green walk light. " _Finally_."

Toushiro made a quick charge across the street, huddling into his coat as he hopped up on the opposite sidewalk and made in the direction of the train station. He managed to pass six storefronts before he noticed Hisagi jogging after him, white flecks of a sudden flurry beating along his dark blue button up and slowly turning it darker.

"Fuck off, please," Toushiro called back. "I sincerely beg you."

The tattooed man grunted, picking up his pace. "Look, will you just listen to me for a sec–'

"No, Hisagi, okay? I'm not gonna fucking 'look'." Toushiro stopped in front of an empty building checkered with 'for lease' signs, whipping around in a rush of emotion, airing them all out for the world to see. "This isn't the time for a goddamn heart to heart or whatever it is you're trying to do, alright? I haven't heard from any of you for over two years, and if it weren't for your girlfriend's dad dragging me here tonight you wouldn't have even thought about me. You're not allowed to use this coincidence for your own fucking benefit."

"Whynot?" Hisagi sagged at the shoulders, delayed in catching his breath. "I know I've been a shitty friend, okay. I should've tried to see you a long time ago...I just didn't know how. But I'm always thinking about you, Toushiro. And Rukia and Renji, they put up a callous front, but I know they think about you too, and I _know_ they miss you as much as I do."

Toushiro chewed down on his lip, hunched as he wrapped his arms around himself, gripping his elbows in a self-endowed hug as the chill of the night pricked along his skin.

"We used to be a family, all of us." Hisagi said, as if he had to remind him. Toushiro closed his eyes. "And then we weren't. It was hard to reach out after that."

"Because of me, right?"

"I didn't say that–'

"But you're thinking it. The three of you made it real fucking clear that what happened was my fault."

The dark-haired man struggled with his words, scrunching up his face as snowflakes nipped his cheeks. "We didn't mean it like that," he said, pleading his case desperately. "We were just– I dunno, put off. We were angry."

"So I guess it's all fine, then, yeah? Nevermind the fact that you guys pretty much abandoned me, that none of you bothered to keep in touch, because oh, you didn't mean it." Toushiro jerked his head to the side, inhaling sharply. The cold air filled his lungs, irritating his throat, and he adamantly convinced himself the ache in his chest was from a lack of nicotine. "Should I apologize now, too? Say I'm sorry that my sister killed herself and I was upset about it?"

"You lost your mind, Toushiro!" Hisagi had finally snapped, his inherent calmness run dry. "Being upset and in mourning was one thing, but you went completely mad. You stopped sleeping, you stopped eating, you were hopped up all the time on god knows what, spouting all these nonsense ideas about how–'

"You were there." Toushiro's voice croaked, and Hisagi slackened. "You were with me when I found her, you saw all the signs the same as I did, and you did absolutely _nothing."_

"Toushiro–'

"You didn't back me up with the others, you didn't back me up when I wanted to leave the label. You guys treated me like some irrational child, and you only cared about your careers and your fame, expecting me to just keep working for that prick–'

"Can you blame us for being a bit scared? You were asking us to give up everything, and when we didn't immediately comply you just shut us off. And Aizen, he just wasn't the guy you wanted him to be. You didn't want to deal with Momo's death, so your mind came up with ideas and theories to block it out."

"Oh gee, thanks Doctor," Toushiro mocked. "Finally putting those psych books you read on the road to use, huh?"

"You need help, Toushiro."

He shook his head, his breath a crisp shudder as he backed off. "No, no, you know what I need? I need people to stop telling me what I need. This conversation is over."

"Have you even been to her grave?" Hisagi went on, even as Toushiro turned and began walking away.

"She's gone either way, right?" Toushiro called back flatly, pivoting on his heel to give a shrug, slowing his pace but not stopping completely. He flashed a hollow upturn of his lips, flinging his hands up. "What does it matter?"

* * *

The drive home was spent in heavy silence. Karin had been desperate to take the train home, but hadn't dared waste her energy arguing about it with her father, knowing full well she'd lose. So instead she accepted her fate begrudgingly, sulking in the back seat with her arms crossed over her chest, staring endlessly out the window.

She hadn't said a word to Ichigo since dinner, when she'd returned to the table after Toushiro's departure. To her, he was partially to blame.

Once the car stopped outside her apartment building, Karin's hand shot to the door handle, a rushed goodbye falling from her lips as she heaved herself onto the sidewalk. She all but ran up the cement stairs, working her legs to the brink of their strength as she charged up to the entrance. She hadn't failed to hear a car door open and close just seconds after she'd gotten out, and when her brother bounded up the steps after her, she didn't even bother to swallow her groan.

"Karin, wait."

She closed her eyes, turning only half around to regard him. "What?"

"Are you mad at me, or something?"

"Wow, did you actually detect that on your own or did Dad have to tell you?"

Ichigo deflated. "So you are mad." Karin made a face, eyebrows quirking. "Why? What did I do?"

She scoffed. "Are you fucking serious?" she cut out, giving him a bewildered look. "You're actually asking me that?"

"What?"

"My God, Ichigo, you are so unbelievably dense sometimes. Do you not even realize how incredibly rude you were to Toushiro tonight? How much worse you made everything?" Amidst his usual scowl he'd gone blank, and Karin fumed. "I wasn't deluded enough to think you'd like him right off the bat, but I at least thought you'd respect me enough to try. But you can't even do that, can you? It's like I'm in fucking high school again and you're coming home to me working with my male lab partner and proceed to make him so uncomfortable he switches partners the next day! But instead this is worse, a hundred times worse–'

"You don't think I knew what he was the moment I saw him?" Ichigo interjected, mustering every serious fiber of his being. "I'm a doctor, Karin. I know a fucking addict when I see one, and I'm not gonna pretend this situation's okay–'

"It's not up to you to decide what's okay!" Karin damn near shrieked, fists shaking at her sides. She'd had a prescribed patience with her brother her entire life, and it'd gotten so thin and cracked the past few years she no longer had the energy to keep it. "This is my personal life, and he is _my_ business. You don't get a say in that."

Ichigo was beside himself, his frown tight and his eyes wide. "Fine," he spat, harsher than he'd ever been. "Just don't come crying to me when he disappoints you. Because he will, you can trust me on that. It's what addicts do."

"And you'll just love that, won't you." She betrayed too much emotion in her voice, hoarse as the words scratched through the lump in her throat. "Your whole overprotective big brother complex might've been fine when I was growing up, but I'm not a kid anymore, and I don't need it."

Karin went for the door then, coiling her fingers around the handle and pulling it open with no lack of struggle. She felt jet lagged, that's how exhausting the night had been. It showed in the way she moved.

Stepping inside, she cast her brother a final look. His own expression had gone soft with a brutal despondence, and it was hard to look at him. She'd seen that face too many times.

"When you're ready to drop the act and just support me, we can talk."

She left him to brew in his stubbornness, drawing her keys from her pocket and unlocking the second entry door. She'd have thought she'd feel lighter after finally letting so much pent up frustration out, but instead she only felt heavier, weighed down with guilt. Not just from this, but from the whole evening. She'd truly been an asshole. Totally outdone herself.

In the elevator she pressed her back flat against the wall, gripping the steel support beam with all her strength, her eyes squeezed shut so she wouldn't have to look at her reflection. Toushiro's outburst had stunned her, her mind still reeling with all he'd said like a skipping record on repeat, and she wondered again where he'd gone, if she'd find him home or not, whether he'd gone off on another bender. It had nagged at her the entire dinner, kneading a perpetual frown onto her face that even Yuzu couldn't placate.

The doors dinged open with a resounding shot of dread throughout her body, her vision blurred as she stared down the barren hallway. Tears always crept up on her, unannounced and imposing. She barely ever felt them until it was already too late, until anyone within a twenty feet radius would be able to see. It was just her luck nowadays that she was usually alone when it happened, and she simply blinked them away, swiping her fingers under her eyes as she bounded out of the elevator.

She treaded carefully, prolonging what she believed to be the inevitable: an empty apartment. No Toushiro in sight. The overwhelming reality of how wrong she'd been. She was at her door sooner than she'd wished, only being three doors down from the elevator and not having far to go. She found herself lingering in front of it like a stranger, chewing on her lip as she fiddled with her keys. Maybe she should've gone to Yuzu's place after all. Her sister had practically begged, eager to have conversations Karin wasn't quite up for, too emotionally drained to even entertain.

But maybe it would have been better.

She heaved a sigh, exasperated with herself, and finally slid the key into the lock, turning it with a brash flick and a huff. The entire apartment was dark aside from the bleak glare of city lights coming through the window, and her body slumped on it's own accord, her eyes lidding tiredly as she shoved the door shut and locked it. She kicked her boots off at the door and continued on to the living room, letting her coat slip from her shoulders and drape over the arm of the sofa. It was only when she began to draw her hair up into a bun that she noticed him, her gaze falling aimlessly on the window, and she froze.

"You're here."

The words came out more blunt than she intended, though she wasn't sure if she wanted him to know how truly relieved she felt.

"Disappointed?"

"Surprised," she corrected. Toushiro didn't look at her, staring blankly out the window as he sat huddled on the window sill, hunched over himself with his knees held tight to his chest. Karin studied him for a moment, letting her hair fall back over her shoulder as she approached him. He only took up half the window seat with how he was sitting, so she easily proceeded to take her place on the other side, tucking the skirt of her dress under her legs as she brought her knees to her chest. She only now noticed the hole in the toe of her stocking, briefly regarding the inch of space between their feet.

"Are you okay?" she asked, having taken a minute to gather herself, another to look out at the mess of snowflakes blowing past the window.

There was a distinct tightening of his features, the silence heavy before he answered. "How do you define okay?"

Karin sagged. "I'm sorry, Toushiro," she said, her sincerity running deep but her voice too small to carry it. He blinked away from the window, but still refused to look at her. "I shouldn't have forced you to stay."

"You were just trying to help."

"Yeah," she scoffed, shaking her head in spite of herself. "And like usual I just made it worse."

He glanced at her then, his eyes blotched red and puffed. When she'd stared too long he looked away again, resting his chin on his arm. "Did he tell you what happened?"

"No… He didn't say anything." She remembered how long Hisagi had taken to get back to the table after he'd supposedly went to the bathroom, a secret to no one where he'd actually gone. He'd given them all a smile, the reassurance not quite meeting his eyes. "I'd like it if you would, though."

He shifted, pressing his back against the wall, his arms outstretched over his knees. He looked like a ghost against the glare from the window, his eyes narrowed in a blank daze as he fiddled with his hands. "My sister killed herself, about two and a half years ago," he started, disarmingly toneless. Karin already knew this, but hearing it again and in such a blunt way had her reeling. "She'd been dating the head of our label for a while, probably like three years or so. She'd always been our main supporter, long before we got signed, so she was always hanging around at gigs and stuff, and one night she ran into him, got talking, got him to take interest in us. It was a while before I realized they were seeing each other, but I didn't really think anything of it at first. She was head over fucking heels for him, and he seemed like a decent enough guy…"

He paused then, becoming sharply quiet. Karin chanced a look at him, chewing down on her bottom lip. He'd gone rigid.

"They moved in together after a year. I thought it was too soon, but she never made a habit of listening to me." He smirked then, light and bitter. "It wasn't long before she started acting different, stopping hanging around as much, barely talked to me.

It went on for those last couple years, just getting worse and worse, but I was the only one who seemed to notice anything wrong. And god forbid Momo actually heard me out anytime I tried to bring it up. Said I needed to let her 'grow up'. Eventually we went our final tour, and she was supposed to come out with us after we got back, so Hisagi and I went over to her house to pick her up. And there she was, all grown up with her fucking wrists slashed open."

His voice hitched on the last beat and he stopped, hanging his head so his hair covered his face. Karin felt the phrase 'I'm sorry' catch in her throat, molding around the lump that had closed it shut. She wasn't about to say that, such a frivolous and unhelpful thing. She'd gotten so many after her mother died, and not one of them cured her of the pain, nor did they make her mother any less dead.

"She'd taken a bunch of painkillers, enough to overdose. It was like they didn't work fast enough for her, so she had to go to plan B. She had to die as quickly as possible." Toushiro didn't try to hide the sorrow in his voice now, such a fruitless act to begin with. He didn't look directly at her either, his gaze cast aimlessly the entire time he spoke. "She had bruises all over her, a brand new gash on her forehead. It was so obvious what happened, why she was so different. It was that piece of shit's fault, but nobody believed me. Hisagi and them said that _I_ needed help, that it was just my grief…

'I wanted out of the contract, and eventually I managed to get out of it, just without any royalties. Which was fine, but I wasn't told that my leaving also meant that the rest of the band would be dropped from the label too, until it was already done. They didn't really stick around after that."

He sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly. A sad smirk fixed his face, an unfocused gaze settling on her. "Now here I am, fucked up and alone."

He scoffed then, low and caustic, drawing a hand to his forehead. His massaged his temples, attempting to keep himself steady with moderate breaths. Karin stared down at their feet, her brows drawn together in a thoughtful furrow. She didn't even know what to think, her chest tight and constricted. She looked up at Toushiro with a catastrophic mind, meddled with all the new information, and he looked so beside himself, isolated like he always is despite being so close to her. At that moment she stopped trying to formulate a response, gave up on her attempts to string all the right words together. She straightened herself gently, determinedly quiet as she took his hand in hers, lacing their fingers together.

She only met his stare briefly, her expression soft and reassuring, a look he hadn't gotten in a long time. It resonated in his chest long after she looked away, and he found himself holding fast to her touch, like an illusion he was desperate to sustain.

He almost felt okay.

.

* * *

A/N: Holy shit this got long. But I guess with like 4 intertwining conflicts it was bound to happen. I've been wanting to post this chapter for fucking ever, and I'm excited to see what you guys think. Your reviews keep me alive, I love you all.

Until next time~


	8. while the world was flying by

...

The bar was rustic and old, with torn leather stools and stained wooden tables, walls littered with flyers and magazine clippings, a jukebox in the corner filled exclusively with jazz. Toushiro hated it; the musk, the familiar people, how relaxed he became the moment he stepped inside. It was like no other place in the city, a place you had to know about in order to find it in the back alley behind a gentrified strip of yoga studios and coffee shops and condos, where the door closes behind you with a dead jingle of a bell and it feels like a completely different world.

He played his first show here.

"Give me a bottle of your cheapest whiskey," he told the bartender as he slid onto a stool, barely making eye contact. The man behind the bar grunted, groggy as he moved about. "And a glass," he added.

"Ikkaku!"

The voice was striking and familiar, and before Toushiro could help himself his head shot up, his attention snapping instantly to a tall woman at the other end of the bar, an unmistakable ghost of his past by her long mane of violet hair and all encompassing aura. She didn't meet his gaze, her eyes the colour of gold and glowing with authority as she looked to the other bartender and subtly shook her head. Ikkaku, a prematurely bald young man of whom Toushiro distinctly remembered attending high school with, simply took a step back with a hands off gesture, shooting the woman a curious look as they switched places.

Toushiro hung his head back, bracing himself for slaughter.

"Well look at this," the woman accosted airily, placing herself directly in front of him, hands slack on her hips. Toushiro let out a sigh. "Hitsugaya, back in the flesh."

"Can we not be dramatic, please."

"'Nice to see you too, Yoruichi', 'How've you been, Yoruichi?' Is that _so_ difficult?" She huffed, scowling at him. She maintained this look in earnest even as she refilled a round of shots for a nearby table, just barely breaking eye contact in order to grab a bottle of tequila from the shelf behind her. "Glad to see you're still alive, at least," she told him once they were left alone again, wiping up the counter with a partially clean rag. "Last time I heard, you were in the hospital. Alcohol poisoning, wasn't it? Wait, no, drug overdose. That's it."

Toushiro gaped at her, a throb of discomfort settling in his chest. Yoruichi quirked a brow at him, her expression familiar. It was a look he'd received quite enough.

"Can I just get my drink already?" he snapped, squaring his shoulders. "I'm not in the mood for some goddamn soap opera."

Yoruichi pretended to think, raising her eyes to the ceiling. "Hmm, no."

He scoffed. "No? Seriously, you're not going to serve me because I, what, OD'd forever ago?"

"Ten months is hardly 'forever ago'," she rebutted, annoyingly nonchalant. "Although, I suppose if you were to _pay_ for your drink with actual _money,_ I might be obligated to change my mind."

Toushiro scowled, giving her his iciest look even though he knew she'd give one better. "I don't need this shit," he bit out, making to leave as he slid off his chair.

"Now, now," an airy voice soothed from behind, the man of whom it belonged effectively stalling Toushiro's exit as he draped a lanky arm around his shoulders and placed a bottle of whiskey on the bar in front of him. "Let the boy have his booze, dear. He's gonna drink today whether we let him or not."

Toushiro never imagined he'd ever be quite as pleased to see the bar's owner, a rather shady and eccentric man by the name Urahara Kisuke. Decked out as always with a hobo-inspired green ensemble and clogs, blond hair falling haphazardly to his shoulders, Urahara was exactly as he was the last time Toushiro saw him, and that didn't bode too well with the internal suffocation he was currently experiencing.

Coming here was a mistake.

"Good to see you again, Hitsugaya," Urahara said jovially, easily ignoring the enraged glower he was receiving from his partner across the bar. He adjusted his green and white striped hat reflexively. "How've you been?"

Toushiro swallowed uncomfortably, not so subtly shrugging the man's arm from his person. "Er, fine. I suppose," he replied, barely.

"Marvelous, marvelous." Urahara leaned back against the bar then, nudging the rim of his hat upwards with the end his walking stick, his face now shining properly in the light. "We're all quite the same here," he said plainly. "Not that you planned on asking."

Toushiro frowned. "What's with you guys and pleasantries? No one who asks how you are really wants to know, and it's not like anyone ever gives a real response anyway. It's a waste of time."

"Well, that's a poor way of looking at it."

"I call it realistic."

Yoruichi scoffed, firmly unimpressed, while Urahara's grey eyes looked on in deliberation, searching his own with immense consideration. The blond had the face of a slacker, a friendly dork in the light, but even so, Toushiro much rather preferred to be judged with a shadowed expression.

After a long moment of scrutiny, Urahara turned away from him, reaching over the bar for a thin red cocktail straw and sticking it in his mouth. "You can earn that by tuning the instruments," he said, implicating the bottle of whiskey beside him, his tone decidedly gruff from the plastic being chewed between his teeth.

At that, Toushiro wasted no time in grabbing his whiskey and heading off towards the dusty stage in the far corner of the bar, more than happy to be excused.

* * *

Karin slept until noon. It had been a restless night, having stayed up well past midnight with Toushiro, not quite sure when to leave him alone and therefore waiting until he dragged himself away first, then spending hours drifting in and out of sleep, ridden with anxiety over the night's events.

Lying there now in the eerie silence of her bedroom, Karin stared blearily at the sun soaked ceiling above her, feeling sick in the head, empty throughout. The streak of yellow light from her window of which she blamed instantly for her headache faded in and out of passing clouds, fighting against the oncoming overcast while she remained under the covers. She turned over on her side soon after, relishing in the dark corner of the room.

There were several missed messages to her phone, and when she clicked the screen on as she did every morning out of habit, she wished she hadn't. Absolutely no energy resided within her to answer nearly ten text messages and two voicemails from her brother, nor the other several texts and calls from her sister, and definitely not a work-related email from Shinji of which he'd labelled 'RE: IF YOU ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT YOUR JOB…', the beginning of a new message thread and in no way a prompted reply to anything. Karin rolled her eyes.

There was one message she found she was inclined to read, standing out amongst the scroll of notification bubbles, heading an unknown number.

 **From: UNKNOWN**

 **Hey, Karin, it's Hisagi. I got your number from Yuzu's phone while she was in the shower, hope that's okay. I don't really wanna start this subject up with her again so if you could keep this between us for right now – if you know what I mean. Anyway… is Toushiro okay?**

Karin stared at the message on her screen, chewing her bottom lip. Her thumbs twitched and hovered, wanting to reply. In the end, however, she clicked her phone off, ignoring his message along with all the others. She didn't know what to say.

He definitely wasn't fine, that much she couldn't pretend, and once she'd dragged herself out of bed and into the living room, she found he wasn't even there. A note was on the kitchen counter, torn from his notebook and unhelpfully scribbled: **OUT.**

"Great," she breathed, slapping the note back on the counter.

A part of her was relieved he was gone, at that moment. She felt as though something needed to happen after last night, not that she could think of what, or discern whether she was reading too far into things, making up a situation that wasn't there. What she did know for certain was the feeling deep down that she was failing at something, doing _something_ wrong. She thought of Shinji's email then, his outspoken skepticism the last time they'd met up, and she felt her lungs constrict.

She needed time to breathe, time away from the constant. Heading back to her bedroom, she began to pack a bag.

* * *

"Sounds good."

Toushiro stopped, fingertips held fast to the chord as his thumb hovered over the strings. He'd been strumming a loose melody for over an hour, over and over again, his bottle of whiskey sitting half empty at his side and not long forgotten. He tried to nudge it out of view with the guitar, though he knew Yoruichi was all too aware of how much he'd drank.

"It's shit," he replied gruffly, acknowledging only her legs as she stood beside the low wooden stage, not quite in the mood to look her in the eye. "But thanks."

She chuckled, dropping off her feet slowly to take a seat on the edge of the stage, gazing around the room as she leaned back on her hands. "Kisuke says I should apologize, for earlier," she started. He looked at her then, her gaze unbearable to avoid. She appeared almost sad. "I'm not going to, though," she added in flat, a slight scowl itching at the corner of her eye.

"Of course, why would you." Toushiro rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall. He grabbed his whiskey for a quick swig, almost out of spite.

"I finally have a chance to talk to you about some things," she explained purposefully. "I'm not about to waste it to preserve your self-importance."

"Talk _at_ me, you mean?"

Yoruichi hung her head, shaking it slowly. "You act like everyone's out to get you, as if we're all just ragging on you for the fun of it." She kept her eyes on their surroundings, as though checking that everything was running the same in her absence. "I may have taken a few jabs out of anger, and to be honest, _shock,_ at actually seeing you again, but that doesn't take away from the fact that I've been worried. That I care."

"That doesn't really mean much coming from you," Toushiro told her plainly, his features stone hard and unforgiving. His fingers shook lightly against the glass of the bottle still in his hand. " _You,_ who I haven't seen in – how long?"

" _You_ disappeared, Toushiro, not us." She straightened up then, on the offensive. He held his glower all the same, stubbornly standing his crumbling ground. "In fact, every one of us is exactly where we were two years ago, except for you."

Toushiro looked off to the side, a painful tug at his heart drawing his frown deeper. "That's not true," he muttered, uncapping his whiskey once again. "Rukia's a model, international standard. I doubt she's ever around anymore. And Renji and Shuuhei moved away, so there's that."

"At least Rukia has a phone number," she told him, quirking a brow. "The guys on the other hand visit monthly."

He ignored this, taking a long drag of liquor, drinking it down like juice. In his peripheral, Yoruichi grimaced.

"Speaking of models," she went on, "Rangiku was in last week, came to visit before she went back to Paris. You just missed her."

"Thank God." She shot him a look, slapping his leg with the back of her hand. He gave her an exasperated look in return, throwing a hand up. "What? It's not like we left on good terms."

"And who's fault is that?" she snapped, her patience wearing thin. Again, he ignored her in favour of his whiskey. This time though, the act was more timid, more self-aware. It was bitter going down. "I mean, _God,_ Toushiro. It's one thing to push away your friends, but that woman practically raised you. Your little stunt in the hospital last year nearly killed her, you know. She deserves a hell of a lot more than what you gave her."

Toushiro tilted his head to the side, massaging his temples with his thumb and forefinger. He hadn't forgotten what happened with his cousin, the memory of it still etched vividly in his mind, never to let him forget how awful he was. Despairing as he exhaled, he lifted his head, looking to his old friend hopelessly. "What do you expect me to do about it now?"

"You could try calling her, maybe _apologizing_ for once in your life. I hear that helps." She got to her feet then, stretching out her back. "Dinner's upstairs in an hour, I let Tessai know you'd be staying for the night," she told him, hand on her hip as she regarded him once more. "He'd have come down to say hi, but he's currently staking out a loose critter of some sort. Won't come down off the kitchen counter 'til it gets caught in his trap."

Toushiro snorted, laughing quietly. Tessai was a very nice, very _large_ man, about the size of a miniature giant. The image of him squared up on the counter of what Toushiro knew to be a tiny kitchen, waiting out some kind of squirrel or raccoon, struck him as quite amusing.

"Keep working on that song, yeah?" Yoruichi called over her shoulder as she left him be, heading back to tend the bar. "If you're any good I might let you play here again."

Toushiro scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. "Don't hold your breath…"

* * *

The moment Karin arrived in front of her old home, she felt as though she'd been punched in the gut. The train ride to Karakura Town was about an hour long, the city transit bus uptown nearly twenty minutes, all that time spent clearly in a daze. She wanted to be here, that she was certain, yet she hadn't really thought through what being here really meant: her father instantly knowing something was wrong, and while he might not broach it right away, it would hang over their heads the entire time until, and if, she decided to talk about it.

He would already know something was wrong, however; she'd realized this already. It could not have been made clearer after last night that many things were wrong. At least that part could be skipped.

Digging her set of keys out of her bag, Karin let herself in, leaving just her shoes in the foyer before going through the rest of the house. It was quiet and dark, the former a very good sign that her father wasn't home. He was always singing along to some old song, or playing life-coach to fictional characters on T.V. as if it would somehow help the plotline in their respective soap.

"Hello? Dad?" she called out fruitlessly, checking the den as a last resort before giving up her search. It was only mid-afternoon, she reasoned, so he was most likely running errands, or purchasing more awful hawaiian shirts. Only a tad disappointed that he wasn't home for her surprise arrival, Karin headed upstairs, aching to drop her bag in her room and jump in the shower.

After, bundled up in sweatpants and one of her brother's old hoodies he'd left in her closet, she went about making up her tiny bed with fresh sheets and blankets, setting herself up for the night. Curling up beneath the covers, Karin switched on the tiny television that sat at the foot of her bed, allowing a random drama to play on low while she tended to her phone. She decided to answer just her sister for now, as it was the easiest.

 **To: Yuzu**

 **From: Karin**

 **next time you're free on the weekend we'll catch up, alright? you know how much I hate long form texting**

Hitting send, Karin clicked her phone off and burrowed into the warmth of her bed, letting her eyes droop a little as she watched T.V. On the screen, two people were breaking up, full of hysterics.

It wasn't more than two minutes later that her phone sounded.

 **To: Karin**

 **From: Yuzu**

 **Come over this Saturday! I'll make dinner. We can talk.**

 **.**

 **To: Yuzu**

 **From: Karin**

 **okay.**

Feeling exceptionally less guilty now, Karin shoved her phone into her sweater pocket and resumed cuddling her pillow, eyes glazing over as she continued watching the glitchy screen.

Soon enough, she dozed off.

* * *

Toushiro was well past buzzed, barely a fourth of his whiskey left in the bottle. The curry for dinner had sobered him a little, but he hadn't allowed that for long, lingering no further at the table than his last bite. He exaggerated motivation to work on his music, keeping to himself his sole wish to be numb drunk and alone, and quick as he could disappeared into the guest room down the hall.

It was more of a storage closet than a room, big enough to house some boxes against the wall and a futon mattress on the floor, of which he currently sat with a borrowed guitar from the bar stage, once again strumming his scattered melodies. The liquor was not his friend at the moment - he realized this as his concentration lacked, blood boiling up his veins with a fevered tingle.

Dinner with the three bar tenants was rambunctious as always, Urahara picking fights with Yoruichi while she in turn stole food off his plate when he wasn't looking, Tessai watching on silently, eyes bright and amused behind his tinted glasses. It was the closest to his former life Toushiro had gotten in a long time, and he'd expected to feel somewhat at home. Instead, he felt like an alien.

His cousin had brought him into this world; gave him his first guitar at ten, bought him all the best lesson books, got him and his friends their first gig at her best friends' bar when they were just fifteen. His sister had followed him through all of it, jealous at first but always encouraging, showing the epitome of support when she got them scouted out by the biggest record label in the country at this very bar.

Everyone he cared for and lost were tied to this place, so heavily integrated it was like a piece of their souls lived in the walls. He hadn't meant to come back, setting out that morning for a mere walkabout to clear his head, seamlessly losing his way across the city as though his subconscious was conspiring against him, leading him back to this shoddy little bar. It had him feeling sick in the stomach, all his past memories and mistakes slithering around, not about to be easily drowned by booze.

Soon giving up the guitar, laying it down on the floor beside him, Toushiro drained the last of his whiskey and settled down on the mattress. He kicked the blankets aside, the mere effort exhausting as his limbs began to refuse him, going numb as he'd wanted. Sleep hit him fast, the sounds of his estranged friends down the hall just distant chatter, the resounding flicker of faces behind his eyes barely registered, freshly reordered and ending with Karin. She was either sad or disappointed in him, any other expression nearly unimaginable, and in the moment before he crashed he wondered what she was doing, if she wondered where he was.

If she'd let him back in.

* * *

It was nighttime when Karin woke up, the television now turned off and leaving the room in darkness. A streak of yellow light was painted overhead, seeping through the crack in the curtains from the streetlamp outside. The familiar noise of a cooking competition could be heard from the T.V. below, the clinking of cutlery against ceramic ringing in the midst.

She lingered where she was a little while longer, still not completely conscious even as she made her way out to the hallway following a hesitant vacation from her bed. The indisputable sound of her father humming while he chewed flowed up the stairs as she crept down, pricking her unexpectedly in the heart and making her chest swell.

She hadn't been home in a while.

She found her father on the living room sofa, take out containers galore and spread out before him on the coffee table, his plate held just below his chin as he ate.

"Hey," she said quietly, hugging herself as she made to join him on the couch, sweater sleeves pulled over her knuckles.

Isshin looked up at her, training his gaze as she settled beside him. "Hey, dear," he said, wiping the mess of food from his face with the back of his hand. "You looked pretty peaceful when I got home so I didn't want to wake you. Sleep well?"

"Yeah, I guess."

He wore a slight smile, gesturing soon to the coffee table. "Want some food?"

Karin shook her head, wrapping her arms around her legs as she huddled into the side of the sofa. "Maybe later."

Her father nodded, reflexively understanding. Reaching his chopsticks into one of the containers and plopping a couple dumplings onto his plate, he turned his attention back to his show.

After a while of silence, once the episode had ended and he was finished eating, Isshin refocused on his daughter. Feeling it instantly, Karin's lungs seized, drying up her throat.

"You okay, kiddo?"

She kept her eyes trained forward, feigning interest in what was up next on T.V., her mere nod succinct and unconvincing.

Isshin sighed, turning the volume down with the remote but thankfully leaving the television play on. "Your brother called earlier," he told her simply. "Says you're not returning his calls."

"I don't feel like talking to him," she said, managing a steady voice.

"That's fine." He fiddled with his hands momentarily, clasping them stiffly in his lap. His smile was strained now, plastered unevenly across his face. "You've cut him a lot of slack over the years, don't think I haven't noticed."

He turned a bit to the side then, giving her an earnest look, his eyes dark and weighed down by exhaustion.

"Your brother is not a level-headed person, Karin. Maybe as a doctor dealing with other people's problems, but not his own. You have to realize that he over focuses on you and your sister in order to ignore what's happening in his own life. Which I know doesn't excuse his actions, but it's just what he does."

Karin exhaled slowly, moving a hand down to pick at a loose thread that stuck up from the sofa cushion. No one needed to remind her how dissociated her brother was from himself, haunting his body like a ghost since as long as she could remember.

Since their mother died.

"I'll talk to him soon," she said plainly, casting her father just the quirk of a smile. "I'm just letting him sweat it a little."

Isshin chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "Fair enough." He ran a hand through his hair, slouching tiredly. "He's at least giving your sister's boyfriend a chance," he said in afterthought, relief underlining his tone. "That's something unexpected…"

She scoffed. "Yeah, well, Ichigo's always been more supportive of Yuzu."

"It's not as though you're the most open with him," he rebutted, calling her out. "He at least knows what to make of Yuzu; she tells him everything."

Karin made a face, rolling her eyes. Isshin remained silent for a minute, roaringly thoughtful.

"Is Toushiro okay?"

She shrugged, still picking at the sofa. "I dunno," she said quietly, breathing out in a huff. "He's been through a lot of tough shit, and I can't really do anything about any of it. I just got lucky that he came home last night. I'd really expected him to go on another bender or something."

"Well, clearly he's found trust in you," he supposed out loud, clearly trying to choose his words with care. "I imagine he feels safe with you."

"I think you're reaching a bit…"

Her father cast her a look. "You've given him somewhere to go home to. That counts for something."

Karin gritted her teeth, her face growing tight. "I give him a crappy couch and constant criticism. We argue more than anything else." She shook her head, not feeling too worthy of praise. "I'm hardly _fixing_ anything."

With the thread wrapped around her finger pulling out clean from the sofa cushion and losing her something to distract herself with, she laid her head back, staring despondently at the ceiling.

"You can't fix people, dear." Karin gulped, straining her throat. He was looking to her to understand, and she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tendons in her chest convulse. "Try and lead them in the right direction, sure… But, where they end up is entirely on them. You can't change that."

She breathed out, unsteady and withered. Stubborn as she was, she looked off to the side, dipping her chin down and poorly veiling the swipe of her hand along her tear-stained cheek. A defense danced on the tip of her tongue, but she forced it down, not completely sure where she stood.

As little as she felt she was helping Toushiro, she couldn't keep from thinking herself the one thing between him and self-destruction. If she were to leave him to his own devices, to fix himself, she'd doom them both.

* * *

It was well into the middle of the night when Toushiro came to again, woozy and very much still drunk. Struggling for several hitched breaths to get to his feet, he left the room and staggered none too quietly down the hallway, a dim light from the kitchen guiding his way. He used every surface he passed as a crutch in order to get to the fridge for a bottle of water, leaning back against it as he proceeded to chug down half the bottle in one take.

Winded, he coughed and hacked, stumbling over to the table and collapsing onto a chair. He sipped the water gingerly now, his head unsteady on his shoulders, swaying in all directions. The room spun around him, elbows shaking against the table as he held his head in his hands, eyes closed shut and heavy. For a while, he dozed off.

He came back to with a start, his stomach churning unforgivingly. He itched for a cigarette; he'd ran out that morning. He took to more water, attempting to breathe slow and even, keeping his liquor and whatever else down. Once the room stopped spinning quite as much, he braved a rummage around the kitchen, through several drawers and cupboards, doubting that any of them kept their cigarettes in this room but searching for some anyway. If he hadn't been so out of it and stubborn, he'd have just asked for one earlier.

He soon gave up, resolving to just go back to sleep, leave here early enough and hopefully get Karin to lend him money.

 _Karin._ He repeated her name in his mind, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. Pressing his palm to the wall to keep him somewhat balanced, he began his way back to his room. Just before he left the kitchen, he stopped at the phone on the wall, regarding it briefly.

He couldn't think of her phone number. He'd never asked for it, among a lot of other things. At the back of his mind is where she was kept, continuously pushed back day after day with what he couldn't discern was selfishness, or apprehension. Ignoring her only got more difficult as time went on, nearly impossible over the last twenty four hours and barely aided by the alcohol. He didn't yet want to register the odd feeling she'd stirred up in his chest, adamant to avoid it like so many similar feelings he'd had since they met, and so he'd left before she'd had chance to wake up and make him face it. Sitting with her on the window sill the night before, the full regard of him she'd had in her eyes, the soft assurance at her fingertips as she held his hand, it was the most at home he'd felt in a long time. And, consequently, the most depressed.

All it had him thinking about was all the people he pushed away, the last person he'd had to care about him not quite out of his life long enough for it not to hurt. Yoruichi hadn't exaggerated in the slightest: his cousin had been like his mother, barely out of high school when she stepped in to take care of him and his sister after their parents died. She could've left them alone with their shitty inheritance and some estranged relative, but she wanted to keep them structured, keep them where they were and make sure they were comfortable. And in the end, he'd been an ungrateful prick.

 _Her_ number, at least, he knew. Following a moment's thought, he drew the phone from the wall receiver, pressing down on the buttons slowly and purposefully. Leaning against the wall, he brought the phone to his ear. It rang several times, each one more deafening than the last, and in the end he was relieved by the _beep._

" _You've reached Matsumoto Rangiku~! Sorry I missed your call but as you should know I'm a very busy lady! Leave a message and I'll get back to you someday~!_

His mouth went dry at her voice, almost stunning him into leaving an accidental voicemail. He placed the phone back on the receiver like it was on fire, thoroughly unsure what his plan was.

What was he supposed to say now?

* * *

Despite the luxury of not having to go to work that Monday due to a public holiday, Karin was out of bed by seven a.m. She took just a minute to wash her face and make herself half presentable, shoving the few things she'd brought with back into her bag and heading downstairs with an overtired energy. Dropping her bag in the foyer, she went down the hall to the kitchen, finding her father already up and making coffee.

"You're up early," Isshin commented, currently spreading jam on a piece of toast.

"So are you," she said in turn, going straight for the loaf of bread on the counter and popping a slice into the toaster. Her father chuckled.

"Internal alarm clock," he explained easily, retrieving the coffee pot just as it finished brewing. "Coffee?"

"Sure. Do you have a travel mug I could borrow?"

Her father frowned. "Leaving already?"

"Um, yeah," she replied, tapping her fingers impatiently on the counter as she waited for her toast. "I've got some stuff to do today. Plus I should go home and make sure Toushiro's still alive."

"Well, alright." He seemed a bit disappointed. Karin pretended not to notice, slapping jam onto her toast as soon as it popped up and spreading it carelessly. "Do you want me to drive you back?"

"No, no, no, it's too long a drive. I'm okay just taking the train."

He passed her a large travel mug, sliding over the sugar and cream as she began to fill it up with coffee. "I'll drive you to the station, then," he decided resolutely. Making a face, Karin opened her mouth to argue, but he held up a hand, shaking his head. "You're not wasting money on a cab or bus when I have a perfectly good car out front. It's barely a ten minute drive."

"Fine," she said with a sigh, rolling her eyes at him. Still, she smiled. Grabbing her mug by the handle, Karin made her way around the counter, taking a large bite out of her toast. Across the dining room there was a pile of boxes stacked against the wall, her aimless gaze finding them with a furrowed brow. "What's with the boxes?"

"Oh, um…" Her father paused for a moment, the sounds of him putting things away in the fridge and cupboards filling the silence. She glanced over her shoulder at him, question still painting her face. "I sold the house," he said simply. "I've got an apartment up in the city for next month."

Karin inhaled sharply. "What? You're _moving?_ " Her father merely nodded, appearing slightly taken aback by her reaction. "Why?" she pressed.

"Oh, c'mon Karin, I don't need this whole house to myself," he told her, his laugh weak and forced. "It's felt too big since you and your sister left, and I think it's time for a change."

"But… What about the clinic?"

Isshin shrugged, transferring his coffee to a travel mug. "I haven't been getting as much business lately. I've essentially been working part time at your brother's hospital since last year, since they've been short staffed for doctors."

She couldn't think of any other reason to argue, casting a troubled look around the room. Her attention caught at the portrait of her mother that hung on the far wall, a vibrant depiction that had plagued every breakfast, lunch, and dinner of her childhood.

"To be honest," her father started, a delicate wistfulness in his voice as he followed her gaze. "It hasn't felt the same here since your mother passed. At least with you three around I was able to ignore it, but since you all moved out… It's just time for me to move on."

These words stung at her eyes like salt, lips trembling ever so slightly against the rim of her cup as she sipped her coffee. It was times like this she couldn't help thinking herself the most self-absorbed person. Even last night, she couldn't recall a single time she asked her father how he was doing. She never asked.

"Good," she said with a sort of finality, not quite able to keep her gloom in check. She supposed there was a reason she didn't come back home too often, even if she never really acknowledged it.

Seeming relieved by her acceptance, her father beckoned her out of the kitchen with him, going on about his guest room and how she can always come stay over and it'll still feel like home, Karin following silently behind. With her things gathered and her father headed out to the car, she cast a look around, feeling a familiar chill.

The house had always felt haunted; if not by her brother's affliction or her sister's excruciating likeness to their mother, then by her own inability to deal, even now.

She couldn't imagine what it had been like for him.

* * *

Toushiro woke up just before nine o'clock, a hangover brewing from his head to his stomach, his blood still boozy and weighing him down. A splash of cold water to the face did little to revive him, and with no wish to linger around, he gathered himself up in his sweater and coat and headed downstairs, borrowed guitar in hand.

All three of them were already up, Yoruichi tending to the bar while Tessai set up the tables and chairs, Urahara sitting in his usual place at the end of the counter, back against the wall as he worked on a crossword puzzle. He received a unified glance from all three of them once he entered through the door, and he barely managed to incline his head in regard, feeling as though he'd tip over at any moment.

Silently, he proceeded to the stage to return the guitar, the uncomfortable feeling of Yoruichi's stare weighing on his back the entire time. He no longer had the pride to pretend he was fine and took his staggered steps in stride.

"Stickin' around for breakfast, Toushiro?" she called out in question, her grin apparent enough without even looking at her. "Tessai's about to whip us up a nice spread. Eggs and rice, some sausage–'

"Not hungry," Toushiro said abruptly, cutting her off. Whiskey still swished around in his stomach, the mere thought of food easily making him want to vomit. "But thanks," he added, strenuously polite.

She smirked. "Why, can't stomach the thought of food?"

Toushiro scowled.

"Give the boy some Advil and water," Urahara drawled, scratching his pen against the newspaper in his lap. "I don't want him throwing up all over my floor from all this food talk."

Yoruichi gave her partner a look, lips twitching a sneer, but complied nonetheless. Coming up to him faster than he could fully register, she handed Toushiro a bottle of water and two white pills, her expression fiercely blank as she left him be and disappeared into the office, closing the door behind her.

The air thinned in her absence, and Toushiro relaxed a bit, loitering around by the wall as he gulped down his pills and water. Feeling lightheaded still, he was itching to leave, needing fresh air and to further crash on the sofa at home. He just didn't know how to make his exit, what to say or do if anything at all, so he lingered uncertainly. As a result of this, he began scanning the wall aimlessly, flyers and posters and pictures plastered about it messily. Nearing the end by the door, there was a corkboard, where the mess had clearly started and spread sporadically like a root. Here, he caught the unmistakable face of Kuchiki Rukia, black and white and faded, and his stomach flipped.

With the photo partially covered by other pictures and flyers, Toushiro took out its pin and brought it closer to him, a tentative throb stemming from his wrist as he held it in his hand. All four of them were in the photo, though Hisagi and Renji were in the background, unaware of the camera as they mingled with the people around them. Rukia stood slightly behind him, arms around his shoulders as she pinched his cheeks and tried to force his clearly unimpressed self to smile, her own grin bright and wide. He'd always hated having his picture taken, whereas Rukia loved it. Throughout their youth she had made it her career to drag him into as many photos as possible.

She was his best friend, though. He never truly minded.

"You can take it, if you'd like." Toushiro looked up, catching Urahara as he adjusted his hat, coming up beside him. "I won't tell," he added, lips quirked knowingly.

Toushiro hesitated, considering the photo again. He cast the man a weary glance. "Promise?"

Urahara nodded, casting a look about the wall. "I've got a copy in a box upstairs, I'll replace it."

"Thanks…" Toushiro slid the picture into his coat pocket, exchanging a kindred nod with the bar owner before heading for the door. Pulling it open, he paused, the words 'See you around' on the tip of his tongue. But at this point, he was fairly certain he didn't want to come back.

Swallowing his false sentiments, he left. By the time he'd walked to the other side of town, he felt almost sober, just the weight of a headache behind his eyes and a hollowness in the pit of his stomach. His mind was still a bit loopy, but that was how he preferred it. A constant diversion from his thoughts.

Coming up on his designated street, he was immediately hit with that odd feeling again, his heart lunging against his chest when he caught sight of Karin heading in his direction from the other end of the street. Her head was down, face bundled up within her scarf as she focused on her phone. He slowed his pace to match hers, intermittently glancing her way as he continued on towards the entrance to their apartment building. Eventually, she looked up and met his gaze, her brow furrowed briefly as she regarded him.

Then, she smiled.

"Hey," she said, meeting him at the foot of the steps. The dark circles under her eyes had grown to match his, but her gaze shone bright in spite of them. He found himself caught up in it. "Where've you been?"

Toushiro shook his head, inhaling sharply through his nose. "Nowhere," he replied, his voice like gravel, stripped down with whiskey. He cleared his throat. "How about you?"

Karin shook her head, imitating him in every respect. "Nowhere."

Toushiro merely nodded, and she smiled slightly, chewing her bottom lip. The air was stiff around them, not unlike it usually was, a fumbled silence hanging overhead as they continued up to the apartment together. In the elevator going up, while Toushiro shut his eyes against the fluorescents and Karin tried not to judge him too harshly for being so clearly hungover, she drew out her phone, opening up a thread with her most recent contact.

 **To: Hisagi**

 **From: Karin**

 **he's sticking around… that's something.**

 **.**

* * *

A/N: I'm no longer apologizing. Just know that I am perpetually sorry for being such a lazy prick. HOWEVER, this chap is over 7000 words, so the wait is partially justified.

Three things we know: Toushiro finds it hard to open up to people, and cannot easily admit to his mistakes outside his own mind, whilst Karin is just super. fucking. depressed. They both are, actually. I draw a lot from my personal afflictions to put into my characters, and fanfiction is hardly excluded from this. This story in particular tends to be an outlet, and while I thrive on that, it can be draining at times. So please bear with me as I continue writing this. I _love_ this story, it is my favourite of any I've written on here, and I'm sticking with it to the very end. Don't worry.

Looking forward to your thoughts, and I love you all~

(P.S.: listen to For Blue Skies by Strays Don't Sleep. I listened to it way too much while writing this chapter and it is definitely a key song in regards to this story.)


	9. cheer up, honey i hope you can

It was both funny and irritating how oblivious Toushiro was to people gawking at him.

Walking through the grocery store, Karin trailing behind as the former celebrity studied every inch of the produce section like he'd never seen a vegetable before, she spotted a total of seven wide-eyed youths with their mouths parted and their phones out, mostly teens but a few looking her age. And while he didn't seem to notice one bit, Karin felt like she had a fever.

"Can you put your hood up, please?" she snapped, tucking her hair behind her ear as an excuse to hide her face. Toushiro gave her an odd look, his forehead creasing.

"What?"

"Just, like–' Karin gestured around them with a flail of her arm, glaring at him. "People are looking!"

Toushiro cast a look around him, confused. He caught sight of one girl about ten feet away from them, who immediately went red in the face and disappeared down the nearest aisle.

"You're so skittish," he told her, sounding amused.

"Fuck off, I am not." She screwed her face up, crossing her arms over her chest. This happened everywhere they went together, and no matter if it was one person or ten, she couldn't help feeling uneasy. She didn't want to think about what it was like before he dropped off the grid. What it would be like once he got back on. "You're still in the spotlight, y'know. Anyone who recognizes you gets right nosy. It's awkward."

"You're just paranoid." Uncaringly, he went back to scouring the vegetables. Holding up an avocado, he cast her an inquiring look. "Know anything about making guacamole?"

Karin stared at him blankly, entirely unimpressed. "No."

"I should've guessed," he muttered, placing the avocado down and continuing along the aisle. "I miss the tour caterers… They made the best food."

"Maybe you should finish that new album, then. Get your fancy tour catering back."

He threw a scowl over his shoulder, to which she merely stuck out her tongue. Still rattled by too much associated attention, Karin scanned her surroundings, relieved to find no one looking their way. She almost let herself relax again, but then she spotted her brother at the other end of the aisle, and her nerves seized up.

Grabbing hold of his elbow, she hauled Toushiro into an adjacent aisle.

"The hell?"

"We have enough for now," she decided firmly, her fingers digging into his arm a little too desperately. "Time to go."

"Are you kidding?" Toushiro struggled against her hold, effectively stalling them. "We just got here," he argued. "If you haven't noticed the only things in your basket are instant ramen and cookies. We still need eggs, and like, fruit of some sort. _Something_ that isn't processed garbage."

He made to return to the produce, and again, she yanked him back.

"We'll go to the farmers market tomorrow morning. Just– _please,_ can we go?"

"What is your deal?"

"Nothing!" she croaked, trying to keep her voice low. "I'm just tired, okay. I wanna go home."

Toushiro raised a brow. "You're hiding from someone, aren't you?" His smile went crooked, his eyes bright with interest. "Who is it? An ex?"

Karin groaned. "No!"

"It totally is. Here, point them out, I wanna see." Drawing back from her, he poked his head out around a rack of potato chips, scanning the aisle. Soon enough he spotted a tall man with a particularly spiky flock of orange hair, and the dots quickly connected. Once again, Karin pulled him back.

"Stop that," she snapped, her voice still a hoarse whisper. "He'll see you!"

He frowned. "You're hiding from your brother?"

She huffed, starting down the aisle. "Avoiding," she corrected bluntly.

Toushiro followed her closely. "May I ask _why_ you're avoiding him?"

"No."

He scoffed. "Come on, Karin."

Karin tensed, turning on him quickly. "Can you mind your own business?" she fumed, holding him in her glower for the three seconds it took for his face to tighten, eyes going to stone. A groan bubbled in her throat, raising with it self loathing, and she went on ahead to the checkout line, leaving Toushiro to head the other way.

He was lighting a cigarette before a cold nip at his cheeks could inform him he was outside, his face scrunching accordingly. Off to the side, he leaned against the store's brick exterior, huddling into his coat as he smoked, one hand shoved in his pocket while the other trembled in the wind. Without total awareness to what he was doing, he clutched the photo in his pocket, where it had been since he'd left Urahara's nearly two weeks ago. He had meant to put it away, tuck it inside a book or an album sleeve, but there was something about having it with him. Something he could peg as security if he wasn't so stubborn.

Karin came out several minutes later, head down, groceries packed inside her bookbag. He let her pass as he finished his cigarette, crushing it beneath his boot before catching up to her silence, crouching beneath her stormcloud.

She ignored him, and he continued their life unsurprised.

* * *

The cafe was drafty, leaving both Karin and Rukia bundled up in their scarves, sweater sleeves pulled over their knuckles. In the corner of the tiny space, Karin sipped on black coffee with espresso while Rukia drank an alarming amount of tea, the array of desserts she'd ordered effectively covering every spare inch of their small wooden table.

"You sure you don't want any?" Rukia asked for about the fifth time, cutting into a piece of chocolate cake with her fork.

Karin considered the spread once again, hiding her grimace with a sip of her coffee. The mere notion of eating repulsed her. "No, thanks," she said again. Her leg twitched gently, her boot heel raised and shaking with nerves. Setting her mug on the table, Karin combed her hair behind her ears, focusing a questioning look on her companion. "Was there something you wanted to talk about, Rukia?"

"Hm?" Rukia paused, looking up. Her one cheek was puffed with food, her hand rising to wipe the crumbs and chocolate from her mouth. She tilted her head to the side then, her expression relenting. She made a show of swallowing, chasing her cake with a large gulp of tea. "Um, nothing in particular…"

Karin frowned, scowling slightly. "Really? 'Cause you sounded kinda weird on the phone. Which was kinda weird to begin with, you calling me in the first place."

"You gave me your number," Rukia told her, as if she'd forgotten.

Karin laughed. "Well, yeah, so you could get in touch with Toushiro, not ask me to lunch." The intensity of Rukia's features dimmed then, the warmth in her eyes cooling off slowly. Karin's nerves buzzed, her heart lurching. "Not that I'm complaining," she amended quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I'm happy you called, and that we're hanging out, I'm just… confused."

"Right, of course." Rukia put her fork down, dropping her hands to her lap. Her eyes strayed aimlessly. "Um, I guess, since you came to see me, I've been thinking about Toushiro. A lot. Can't seem to get the fucker out of my mind, actually, so…" She paused, looking Karin dead in the eyes, dark circles protruding as her cheeks paled. "How is he?"

Karin hesitated; she was getting really sick of being asked that. "He's fine," she supposed, shrugging. "I dunno, he's kind of closed off lately. Like he usually is, I guess. But he's writing. That's good enough for me."

"Oh. Well, that's good. That he's writing, I mean." If anything, Rukia appeared even more troubled. She was fiddling with her tea cup, not unlike she'd done before, tracing the rim with her thumb. "Is he sober at all?"

"Somewhat." Again, Karin guessed. She felt a groan constrict her chest, poorly fought down. "He still tends to drink a bit, but as far as I can tell that's it."

It wasn't the most reassuring of answers, and Rukia merely nodded in turn, taking a small sip of her tea. The waiter came over then, teapot in hand, a grand smile on his face as he once again inquired about their experience, wondering if they needed anything else. Finally, Rukia decided she'd had enough tea and asked for water.

"Right away, Miss Kuchiki," he told her, ever so pleasant, and left them be once again. The smile slipped from Rukia's face quicker than she'd managed to fake it.

"Are you okay, Rukia?"

"I'm fine," she said resolutely, reorganizing the plates on the table so that the cheesecake sat in front of her. Cutting off a large chunk, she stabbed it aggressively with her fork and shoved it in her mouth. Her eyes bulged as she chewed, slower and slower as though regretting it. Her eyes watered and reddened around the edges, and suddenly Karin felt uncomfortable.

"I don't want to miss him," Rukia said, her voice stifled and sad. She sniffed, gulping her cake down with visible force. The waiter dropped off her water just as she was wiping her eyes, lingering only for a regulation smile before heading off to another table. Rukia's smile was weak as she looked to Karin; small and fleeting. "It's not fair."

Karin tried to respond, her lips parting once and closing. She wanted to scream at her to just go see him, to stop being such a child and just make things right. But it wasn't that easy, and Rukia wasn't being a child. And, frankly, Karin was being a hypocrite.

"I'm sorry," she decided to say, for loss of anything better or even slightly redeeming.

Rukia shook her head, a dull twinkle in her eye. "I'm just being stupid…"

"No," Karin said, giving her a steady look. "You're not being stupid. It's just… One of those things, y'know?"

Rukia chuckled lightly in spite of herself, her gaze going astray as she drank her water. As she scanned the room, her brow furrowed. "Jesus," she exclaimed quietly, drawing the glass away from her lips. "That guy's hair is freaky."

On reflex, Karin glanced over her shoulder, twisting her back slightly. The bell above the door jingled with news of a new customer, drawing her attention immediately to her brother as he entered the cafe, orange hair burning ostentatiously against the dreary scene beyond the windows. He met her gaze almost immediately, the hair on her neck standing on end as she whipped back around to face Rukia, her face fixed in a nerve-wracked grimace.

"Karin?"

She sighed, sinking down in her chair. Rukia cast her a confused look, but Karin just shook her head, massaging her left temple as she felt her brother's presence draw closer. It was overwhelming, his presence; you could feel his scowl from a mile away.

"Karin," he said again, more intently. He loomed over the table now, arms crossed over his chest, face pulled tight in a frown.

Karin exhaled in a huff, dropping her hands to her lap as she cut him a glare. "What?"

He raised a brow. Even Karin was unimpressed with how bratty she sounded, but she held her ground, staring up at him expectantly. Arrogantly.

"You haven't spoken to me in weeks," he told her, exasperated. "I'm going insane. Do you know how many messages I've left?"

"Too many," she said easily. "And your sanity's been in question for a while."

Ichigo opened his mouth to speak, and then, as if just noticing her, turned his attention to Rukia, words stuck on the tip of his tongue and leaving him to look slightly idiotic. Assessing her quickly, he gulped.

"Oh, hey…" He dropped his hands to his sides, flexing his knuckles. Embarrassment ghosted his pallid expression, the bags under his eyes worse than Karin and Rukia's combined.

Rukia cast him a broad smile, colour resuming in her cheeks. "Hey," she returned, her gaze lingering for a long considerate moment before flicking to Karin with an inquiring twinkle. "Boyfriend?"

Karin laughed, a caustic sound. "God no." She straightened up in her chair then, wincing as her groggy muscles chimed in protest. "Just my annoying brother."

" _Worried_ brother," Ichigo corrected, stating his case firmly. Karin rolled her eyes.

"Oh, well, nice to meet you, then." Rukia stuck out her hand, beaming at him intently. "Kuchiki Rukia."

Ichigo blinked dumbly, slow to take her hand in his. He shook it once. "Kurosaki Ichigo." He furrowed his brow, leering at her now. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Maybe," Rukia supposed, her charm flaring at a hundred and ten percent. Karin wondered if it was a reparatory thing. "Do you have a tendency towards fashion magazines?"

Ichigo laughed, a little uncertain. Karin just gawked at him. "Afraid not," he said. "But they flood the hospital, so I guess by association… Model?"

Rukia inclined her head. "Doctor?" she guessed in return. Ichigo simply nodded. Meanwhile, Karin was out of coffee, and she was getting annoyed.

"Could we get back to what it is that you're doing here?" she interjected, snapping her brother out of a seeming trance. Rukia just smirked, leaning back in her chair as she turned her attention to her phone.

Ichigo's frown had returned. "I just wanna talk."

"By that I hope you mean apologize."

"Somewhat…"

Karin scoffed, looking at him with mild incredulity. "' _Somewhat'_?"

"Just hear me out," he pleaded gruffly, his terrible lack of patience waning into nothing. "I know I was a bit of an ass–'

"A bit?"

'– _But,_ you can't blame everything on me. I didn't _make_ Toushiro blow up at Hisagi."

"Well you sure as hell didn't make the situation any more comfortable, did you? As far as I'm concerned you're a catalyst."

A sneer twisted Ichigo's face, a sharp inhale preluding his response. But Rukia beat him to it.

"Wait, Shuuhei saw Toushiro?" She was upright in her seat, her phone held absently to her collarbone. She looked only to Karin, affronted. "When?"

Karin sighed, becoming flustered. "A few weeks ago. It's a whole thing."

Ichigo glanced at Rukia. "You know them?"

"I was in the band," she explained, granting him the quickest of acknowledgements. A troubled crease settled above her brow. "I just hung out with Shuuhei last week. He didn't mention anything."

Karin made a face, feeling rather guilty, and above all uneasy. A headache had begun to pulse behind her eyes, only made worse when she checked her phone for the time and realized she only had ten minutes of her break left. "I'm sorry, Rukia – I've gotta get back to work."

"It's fine," Rukia told her, rising from her seat just as Karin did. She gathered her things quickly, throwing her coat on in a huff and tossing a few bills on the table. A newfound fierceness burned in her eyes. "I have to go find Shuuhei and yell at him."

Rukia wove around them nimbly, making for a quick exit. "We'll talk later, yeah?" she said, looking to Karin, who merely nodded. Rukia smiled, flashing her teeth at Ichigo before resuming her departure, waving to the waiter before she left. The bell above the door jingled in her wake, and with little mind to her brother and his unreadable expression, Karin was quick to follow suit.

She'd all but started down the sidewalk before he was at her side once again, crushing her with his perseverance. She found herself missing his younger days when he would just let things simmer until they went away.

"I don't have time for this right now, Ichigo," she told him flatly, hands shoved deep in her coat pockets as she stalked down the street. "How'd you even know where I was, anyway?"

"I went to your office first, ran into your unpleasant friend. He told me you'd be here."

Karin grunted. "Dammit, Shinji."

"C'mon, Karin," he pleaded again, grating ever so harshly on her nerves. A sense of entitlement underlined his tone. She could tell he wasn't taking her seriously, not in full. He never did. "Is it so impossible to just have a conversation?"

She laughed, a sneer slicked with acid. "Am I meant to dignify that with a response?"

She graced him with a look of contempt, mild but biting. He grunted, looking away from her. His stubbornness far exceeded her own.

" _I'm sorry_." He had stopped, and she slowed. Turning to face him, she became rooted to the cement. He didn't look at her, instead scowling at the wind, the cars passing them by. "I was a complete tool, and I know that. I was a dick to Toushiro, and to you, and I'm sorry."

"Okay," she said, flat and blunt. He met her eyes briefly at this, then looked away again, staring at the ground, his hands in his pockets as he scraped the ground with the toe of his shoe. Stalling. "Was there something else?"

His expression morphed, twisting in uncertainty, hesitation. The clock in her mind chimed her lateness, but she ignored it, piercing her brother with anticipation. Finally, he looked at her, his face falsely relaxed with a discomfited smile. It sent a shiver down her spine.

"No, no, that's it." He bobbed back on his heels, a jerked motion as if he were recoiling from her. "Why, was there something you wanted to talk about?"

She shook her head, hunching her shoulders as she huddled into her scarf. "Nope," she replied, a nervous twitch at the corner of her mouth leaving her with an awkward smile, lies fizzing out on her tongue. She made a show of checking her phone then; she was five minutes late, and had already garnered two displeased texts from Victoria. "I gotta go."

"Right, yeah." Ichigo inclined his head, backing further away. "See you later."

Karin simply nodded, casting him a wave before continuing on down the sidewalk. She made a quick trek of the last twenty yards to the label, the sun weighing heavy on her eyes, the cold air biting her cheeks. Inside, she was crumbling slow.

* * *

Toushiro was shaking. An incessant tremble rung throughout him, jolting his muscles as he stood shamefully hunched in the dark corner of an unfamiliar pub, shrouded like a felon within his trench coat and hood. The television above the bar played host to an international soccer game, creating a veil of white noise over the murmur of patrons. It buzzed in his ears, putting him further on edge.

"This what yer lookin' for?"

Toushiro blinked, his pulse quickening. Nnoitra towered over him, pure local scum who prided himself on dealing drugs; an easy find in a place like this. He stood tall and thin, dark stringy hair hanging to his shoulders like a curtain around a wide toothy grin, unsettling to most. Toushiro didn't bother to look at him, instead training his gaze on the gram of cocaine being held up to his view. His heart thrashed in his chest, an overwhelming need running through his veins.

He drew a small wad of cash from his pocket, a frown pulling his face tight. "I'll take some downers, as well. If you've got any."

Nnoitra merely smirked, shaking his head as he dug around in his coat, soon withdrawing a small bag of pills. "Here ya go," he said, handing them over. The bar's heating was furnace fuelled and suffocating, and Toushiro had begun to gleam sweat, his withdrawal taking it's toll. Nnoitra leered. "Didn'tcha used to be famous or somethin'? Musician?"

Toushiro cast him a tired glare, securing his purchase in his pocket. "What of it?"

"Thought you looked familiar," he said, as if recognizing him were some sort of feat. "Heard you fell off. Shame."

Toushiro just nodded, slouching back as he made to leave. He preferred his dealers mute.

"Whaddaya suppose I'd get for tellin' the tabloids about this?"

Toushiro paused, a smirk of genuine amusement lining his lips. "I'd say good luck finding anybody who still gives a shit," he offered flatly, hands shoved deep in his coat pockets as he resumed his exit, leaving the drug dealer rather stumped.

The rain was heavy and cold, beating relentlessly down his back as he made his way back around the corner towards the apartment building. He clutched the drugs in his fist the whole way, sickeningly desperate. In the other, he squeezed the photo, not realizing it until he'd arrived and needed a free hand to open the lobby door, and feeling guilty all over again.

Karin was already home from work, and upon entering the apartment Toushiro heard a loud snapping noise followed by a curse. Coming into the light of the living room, he caught sight of Karin sucking on her thumb, eyes squeezed tight in a pained grimace.

"You alright?"

She huffed, drawing her thumb away to inspect it, sticking it back in her teeth. "Yeah," she replied grudgingly, her voice slightly skewed. "Just jammed my thumb trying to get this stupid keyboard set up."

Closer now, Toushiro finally took note of the large keyboard sitting in the middle of the living room, and for a brief moment he forgot about the little bags in his pocket.

"Where'd this come from?"

"Work," she explained simply, transferring her hands to the back pockets of her jeans. "Shinji let me borrow it from the studio, under his name of course. There's a whole list of threatening guidelines to go along with it." She rolled her eyes at this, letting out a sigh as she looked it over. "It's an older model, so naturally it's been replaced and isn't used much anymore. Still nice, though."

"It's great." Beside her now, Toushiro was practically beaming, running his fingers along the keys and various buttons. Karin felt a spur of pride.

"I figured it might help."

"Definitely," he assured her, the deep flatness of his voice lifting ever so slightly. He smiled at her then, not a smirk or a fake, rare enough to give her a start. "Thanks."

She flushed, feeling her cheeks pinch with colour. Grinning with slight reserve, Karin simply inclined her head, proceeding to unpack a bundle of cords. She began with the power cord to the outlet, then spent a good several minutes untangling the cable for the foot pedal. Meanwhile, Toushiro stripped down to just his t-shirt and jeans, shaking out his wet hair like a dog.

Karin watched him in her peripheral, chewing her bottom lip until it stung. Her soul felt paralyzed, her body aching all over, accumulated misery wearing at the tissue. It was beginning to hurt the most around him, in their silence, the relentless discord they so stubbornly tended to, adamantly ignored.

Was he as tired of it as she was?

"I'm sorry about before," she started, quiet and a little flustered. She was fiddling with a particularly difficult knot, her face screwed up accordingly. "Lashing out at you in the grocery store, I mean. Really just pushing you away in general."

Toushiro furrowed his brow, slicking his hair back from his face. "It's fine," he said, sounding slightly disconcerted. "I'm used to it."

Karin sighed. "It's a really bad habit, and I need to stop. It's pretty much the root of all my problems."

"So I'm your guinea pig, then?"

Now he smirked, sitting back on the arm of the sofa as he discarded his socks, rolling up his soaked pant legs. He quirked a brow at her, his grin slipping away as he regarded her frown, the slowness in which she finally unravelled the cord.

"I'm sick of being alone," she muttered, a slither of revulsion running through her as the words left her lips. She regarded his blank expression briefly, self-conscious as she resumed her task, set on fire by his lack of reaction. "Anyway," she started, a tremble of discomfort spurring in her chest. With the foot pedal plugged in, she wove around the keyboard, hands held tight behind her back. "I'll leave you to it."

Toushiro opened his mouth to speak, but she disappeared from view quicker than he could think. He glanced at his jacket, calling to him from the other end of the sofa, drenched and cold. His nails dug into his arm as he stared, what little he had left of his heart squeezing itself to death. Exhaling slow, he got to his feet, ripping his attention away from the zipped up pocket of his vice and heading out of the room.

Karin sat cross-legged at the head of her bed, hugging a pillow to her chest as she chewed her thumbnail. He lingered just inside the doorway, ignoring her stunned glare in favour of checking out the T.V., of which currently played the opening credits of an American drama. He was familiar with the series, as much as he'd hate to admit it.

"Please tell me that love triangle nonsense is over," he begged flatly, scowling at the screen as he approached the bed.

"It's a love _square_ now, actually," she informed him, eyes bright with an impish grin. "There's a new girl in town, stirring up all sorts of shit."

"Oh God," Toushiro groaned, hopping onto the bed to sit beside her, a grimace twisting his face. "Why do you watch this garbage?"

"Numbs the mind," she said simply, shrugging. "Yuzu and I used to watch it together. Makes me feel better, oddly."

"Makes sense," he told her, digging his nails into his shoulder absentmindedly. "Hisagi and I used to be obsessed with _Iron Chef_. He made a huge deal about it, took notes and everything."

Karin laughed. "Yuzu did the _same thing,_ " she remembered aloud. "I teased her relentlessly."

"As did I."

She looked at him then, catching his frown. "It's okay to miss him, you know. All of them."

"I know." He turned to her slowly, a brief smile fixing his face, barely holding up. "But it's easier to pretend I don't."

The television faded into the background, and despite his sadness, she smiled. Without bothering with formalities, she proceeded to grab his arm, unknowingly ripping his fingers from the flesh wound they'd created in order to lace hers through. She laid their hands down between them, holding his tight.

Buzzing with a strangely familiar warmth, he didn't dare pull away.

* * *

 **A/N:** Well wasn't that sweet. Now watch me ruin it with the next chapter. Bye!


End file.
